U  (£  CALIF."  OTWffr  IDS 


RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

A    COMMERCIAL    CLERGYMAN 


RONALD    CARNAOUAY 


A   COMMERCIAL   CLERGYMAN 


BY 


BRADLEY    OILMAN 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  PARSONAGE  PORCH,"  "  BACK  TO  THE  SOIL," 
ETC.,  ETC. 


£t  gijall  be,  as  Srritij  tfje  people,  so  faritfy  tije  priest." 

ISAIAH  xxiv.  2 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1903 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1903, 
BY  THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  April,  1903. 


NorfajoolJ 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


Stack 

Annex 


DEDICATION 

To  all  earnest,  devout  ministers  of  Christ,  —  whoever 
or  wherever  they  may  be,  —  /  dedicate  this  book,  exhort 
ing  them  to  forget  not  their  solemn  vows  of  ordination, 
and  to  strive  to  keep  their  moral  and  spiritual  ideals 
untarnished,  amid  the  dttst  and  vapors  of  this  com 
mercial  age. 


FOREWORD 

THE  aim  of  this  book  is  to  "  hold  the  mirror  up  to 
nature,"  as  manifested  in  certain  phases  of  the  church- 
life  of  our  time. 

Out  of  the  kindness  and  sympathy  which  have  sur 
rounded  me,  for  ten  years,  in  my  own  parish,  I  have 
observed  the  fitful  and  sordid  experiences  of  many 
other  clergymen  and  parishes,  and  I  have  noted  both 
comedy  and  tragedy.  I  now  aim  at  portraying  some 
of  the  hard  facts  and  unhappy  conditions  of  modern 
church-life,  which  need  to  be,  —  not  blandly  or  timidly 
overlooked,  but  courageously  faced,  and  studied,  and 
remedied. 

The  fundamental  idea  of  this  book  is  the  economic 
principle  that  "  demand  creates  supply."  The  religious 
bodies  of  our  time,  who  have  "  Ronald  Carnaquays  "  in 
their  pulpits,  have  them  because  they  have  "  demanded  " 
them,  created  them,  nourished  them. 

This  "demand,"  if  analyzed,  opens  another  problem, 
—  not  discussed  here  at  length, — namely,  the  "over- 
churching  "  of  most  towns  and  cities  in  our  land. 

I  commend  the  more  ideal  clergyman,  Lawrence 
Freeman,  to  the  reading  public,  as  I  would  introduce 


viii  FOREWORD 

and  commend  a  dear  friend,  whose  high  aims  and 
earnest  ministry  I  warmly  approve.  A  personality 
different  from  his  might  have  worked,  with  equal  effec 
tiveness,  by  methods  different  from  those  which  he 
chose.  Let  each  worker  "be  fully  persuaded  in  his 
own  mind."  And  let  him  not  be  disturbed  by  slight 
variations  in  outward  ways  and  means,  —  the  mere 
letter  of  truth,  —  so  long  as  there  is,  within,  a  unity 
in  the  spirit  of  Christ. 

When  a  church  and  preacher  disregard  the  sacred 
leadership  of  Truth,  and  undervalue  the  worth  of  pas 
toral  ministration,  and  subordinate  worship  to  amuse 
ment,  and  when  they  test  the  merit  or  strength  of  a 
church  and  minister  solely  by  mercantile  standards, 
then  that  preacher  and  people  have  become  commercial 
and  sordid ;  then  the  higher  vision  is  withdrawn ;  and 
"  Where  there  is  no  vision,  the  people  perish." 

BRADLEY   OILMAN. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  ANNUAL  MEETING i 

II.  THE  SEAMY  SIDE 15 

III.  POWERS   BEHIND   THE   THRONE  .  .  .  -31 

IV.  DANCING  (AND  DINING)  TO  THE  LORD          .        .  44 
V.  FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL 63 

VI.  FROM  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES      ....  82 

VII.  HUNTING  MINISTERS 89 

VIII.  THE  CONQUERING  HERO  COMES      .        .        .        .no 

IX.  A  CHILD  OF  NATURE 122 

X.  FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL 146 

XI.  A  PULPIT  SUCCESS 167 

XII.  SPOTS  ON  THE  SUN 191 

XIII.  A  DIFFERENCE  IN  METHODS 208 

XIV.  WAYS  AND  MEANS 225 

XV.  "COMING  EVENTS  CAST  THEIR  SHADOWS  BEFORE"  235 

XVI.  COEDUCATION 246 

XVII.  MORE  SPOTS,  AND  LARGER 265 

XVIII.  OLD  HEARTS  AND  YOUNG  LOVE    ....  282 

XIX.  THE  PRICE  OF  BLOOD 302 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX.  BARRIERS  BURNED  AWAY 316 

XXI.  "TILL  DEATH  us  DO  PART"          .        .        .        .328 

XXII.  His  SIN  FOUND  HIM  OUT 336 

XXIII.  "AT  BEST  A  CONTRADICTION  STILL"    .        .        .  343 

XXIV.  "THOU   ART   THE   MAN" 353 

XXV.  GATHERED  FRAGMENTS 371 


RONALD  CARNAQUAY 

A    COMMERCIAL    CLERGYMAN 


RONALD   CARNAQUAY 


CHAPTER   I 

THE    ANNUAL    MEETING 

"The  children  of  this  world  are,  in  their  generation,  wiser  than 
th'e  children  of  light."  —  Luke  xvi.  8. 

THE  Board  of  Trustees  of  Emmanuel  Church  was  in 
session ;  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  it  would  be  in  ses 
sion  so  soon  as  Dr.  Mixer,  chairman,  could  free  his 
columnar  neck  from  the  embrace  of  its  collar  and  tie. 
The  evening  was  a  warm  one,  the  stuffy  little  vestry- 
room  was  oppressive,  and  Dr.  Mixer  had  reached  that 
period  of  age  and  that  rotund  character  of  body  where 
his  collar  frequently  caused  him  annoyance.  This,  or 
any  annoyance,  he  was  never  heard  to  express,  publicly; 
but  there  were  those  who  could  recollect  his  three  wives 
(now  reposing  peacefully  in  the  cemetery),  and  it  was 
whispered  that  his  habitual  unctuous  smile  was  left  in 
his  silk  hat,  at  his  front  door,  and  was  reserved  —  like 
the  hat  —  for  public  use  only.  Dr.  Mixer  found  some 
difficulty  in  removing  the  refractory  linen  band,  and  his 
lips  moved  silently  —  perhaps  in  prayer.  But  in  a  few 
moments  his  head  resumed  its  normal  level,  his  turgid 
countenance  lost  its  inflamed  color,  and  the  full  mouth 
and  thick  lips  took  up  again  their  smiling  duty ;  the 
collar  and  tie  were  laid  on  the  writing-desk,  or  secular 
pulpit,  at  which  the  Doctor  sat,  and,  in  perspiring  free 
dom,  he  called  the  meeting  to  order. 


2  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

There  was  a  general  mopping  of  glistening  faces, 
among  the  half  dozen  men  who  composed  the  Board ; 
but  none  of  them  imitated  his  leader's  conduct,  as  to 
collar  and  tie:  the  social  scale  was  so  nicely  adjusted 
among  them  that  each  knew  that  any  following  of  the 
chairman's  example,  in  this  particular,  would  be  consid 
ered  an  infringement  of  personal  rights.  For  Dr.  Mixer 
occupied,  in  Emmanuel  Church,  precisely  the  position 
occupied  by  a  political  "boss,"  in  affairs  municipal. 
He  was  the  one  person  around  whom  the  activities  of 
the  church  revolved.  He  carried  the  whole  institution 
in  his  pocket.  He  had  begun  life  as  an  errand-boy  in  a 
drug  store,  had  shrewdly  saved  his  pennies,  was  pres 
ently  allowed  to  specialize  his  duties  by  presiding  at  the 
soda  fountain,  and  there  his  popularity  began ;  with  that 
shrewd,  smiling,  commercial  instinct,  which  never  since 
had  deserted  him,  he  knew  how  to  adjust  the  proportion 
between  froth  and  liquid,  in  the  foaming  glasses,  so  that 
each  customer  should  be  "  pleased  "  (as  they  say  in  the 
trade),  and  yet  the  " two-and-f our-sevenths  line  of  profit" 
not  be  profaned.  Afterward  he  started  a  drug  store  of 
his  own ;  that  is  to  say,  he  rented  a  room  on  the  main 
street,  and  fitted  it  up  with  glittering  decorations,  and 
established  a  magnificent  soda  fountain,  which  surpassed 
all  competitors,  and  seemed  to  far  outshine  "  the  wealth 
of  Ormus  or  of  Ind."  He  put  up  a  gilded  mortar  and 
pestle  over  the  door,  and  kept  two  or  three  jars  of 
colored  water  in  the  windows ;  incidentally  he  arranged 
rows  of  bottles  and  boxes  on  the  shelves.  What  was 
really  behind  their  labels  nobody  was  bold  enough  to 
say ;  moreover  nobody  cared ;  enough  that  it  was 
plainly  understood  that  in  his  store,  the  year  round, 
the  best  assortment  of  appetizing  drinks,  hot  or  cold, 
could  be  found,  of  all  the  reputable  drinking-stands  in 
town. 


THE  ANNUAL   MEETING  3 

So  the  young  man  throve,  saved  his  money,  slept  in 
the  back  of  the  store,  bought  a  stray  mortgage  now  and 
then,  and  smiled  on  all  whom  he  met.  But  his  great 
coup  was  when  he  invented  —  or,  as  he  solemnly  ex 
pressed  it,  "discovered"  —  the  remarkable  compound 
known  as  "  Mixer's  Emollient,"  which  afterward  brought 
him  wealth  and  what  he  was  pleased  to  term  "  fame." 
Whether  or  not  he  ever  learned,  in  his  apprentice  days, 
much  about  the  pharmaceutical  theory  of  "compatibles," 
at  least  he  did  learn  three  important  things :  first,  that  most 
human  beings  take  a  considerable  quantity  of  medicine, 
etc.,  at  one  time  or  another;  second,  that  some  advance 
to  the  chronic  stage,  and  contract  the  "  medicine  habit "; 
and  third,  that  all  seek  a  medicine  which  is  ostensibly 
powerful,  supposedly  occult,  and  practically  agreeable. 
Acting  on  this  knowledge,  he  gave  to  the  world  "  Mixer's 
Emollient,  made  from  a  recipe  found  on  birch  bark  in 
an  Indian  grave."  It  was  very  palatable,  with  its  honey- 
and-mint  suggestiveness,  was  advertised  to  cure  nearly 
all  diseases,  and  met  successfully  most  of  the  aches 
and  pains  known  or  fancied  by  self-hypnotized  human 
ity.  Thus  began  Dr.  Mixer's  rapid  advance  in  wealth 
and  power.  On  the  strength  of  his  "  Discovery "  he 
laughed  with  easy  toleration  when  customers  called  him 
"  Doctor,"  then  instructed  his  clerk  to  refer  to  him  by 
that  title,  and  soon  proudly  and  smilingly  adopted  the 
title,  once  and  for  all. 

Thus,  through  gentle  stages,  "  Doctor "  Mixer  had 
made  his  way,  offending  nobody,  flattering  most  people, 
scattering  unctuous  but  cleverly  calculated  smiles  on 
all  sides.  For  five  years  he  had  held  the  sceptre  of 
authority  over  Emmanuel  Church.  During  twenty  years 
he  had  been  a  pewholder ;  at  first  unnoticed,  then  toler 
ated,  then  used;  at  last,  when  the  chapel  was  projected, 
came  his  opportunity  ;  he  calmly  put  down  his  name  for 


4  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

one  thousand  dollars  ;  put  it  down  for  that  amount  after 
Deacon  Fletcher  and  Lawyer  Stringham,  the  society's 
richest  men,  had  given  only  five  hundred  dollars  each. 
At  once  Emmanuel  Church  awakened  to  the  knowledge 
that  "Doctor"  Mixer  had  been  "bountifully  blessed  of 
the  Lord  with  this  world's  goods  "  ;  and  the  parish,  at 
its  next  meeting,  elected  him  to  its  board  of  trustees. 

Therefore,  when  Dr.  Mixer  bared  his  large  flabby 
neck,  and  laid  his  collar  (marked  with  the  number  nine 
teen)  on  the  writing-desk,  he  did  so  with  a  calm  con 
sciousness  of  ownership  of  not  only  the  collar  and  tie, 
but  of  the  desk,  and,  for  that  matter,  of  a  large  part  of 
the  furniture  and  even  the  chapel  itself. 

"  The  meeting  will  come  to  order,"  he  said,  running 
his  eye  over  the  group,  and  dexterously  wiping  the 
perspiration  from  beneath  his  shirt-band.  There  was 
a  quiet  power  in  his  slow,  husky  speech,  which  was 
born  of  his  consciousness  of  the  solidity  of  his  invest 
ments  in  copper,  and  of  new  agencies  recently  estab 
lished  in  the  Western  states,  now  sending  in  large  orders 
for  the  Emollient. 

"  We  have  met  this  evening,"  he  continued  pleasantly, 
as  if  entertaining  a  company  of  friends,  "  to  look  over 
the  parish  accounts,  and  to  discuss  plans  for  the  coming 
year."  Then  he  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  in  search 
of  certain  memoranda,  and,  not  finding  the  slip  of  paper, 
recollected  that  he  had  left  it  in  his  hat,  in  the  hall ;  but 
no  surprise  showed  on  his  round  smooth  expansive  face. 
He  simply  continued  :  "  It  seems  highly  proper  that,  hav 
ing  met  thus,  to  take  counsel  together,  concerning  the 
work  of  the  Lord,  we  should  ask  the  Divine  Guidance. 
Brother  Fletcher,  will  you  lead  us  in  prayer  ? "  And 
Brother  Fletcher  did  "  lead,"  and  all  bowed  their  heads 
—  all  except  Dr.  Mixer,  who  quietly  glided  out  into  the 
hall,  secured  his  memoranda,  returned  to  his  place,  and 


THE   ANNUAL   MEETING  5 

was  ready  with  a  sonorous  "  Amen"  when  the  proper 
moment  arrived. 

Next  there  was  the  singing  of  a  hymn,  little  as  most 
of  those  present  felt  like  singing.  The  truth  was  that 
Emmanuel  Church  had  fallen  behind  in  its  accounts, 
and  these  men,  known  as  "  Pillars  of  the  church,"  were 
well  aware  that  on  them  fell  the  responsibility ;  they 
knew  that  they  held  their  positions  of  official  eminence 
mainly  because  they  were  possessed  of  the  largest 
pocket-books  in  the  parish.  However,  the  easy  good 
nature  of  their  chairman  was  reassuring  ;  nobody  knew, 
better  than  did  he,  the  extent  of  the  society's  indebted 
ness  ;  yet  his  round  face  was  placid,  and  his  voice 
soothing.  Therefore  they  took  courage,  and  sang,  with 
cumulative  fervor,  five  stanzas  of  the  hymn,  "  Blest  be 
the  tie  that  binds."  The  real  tie  that  bound  them,  — 
yes,  and  chafed  them  —  was  a  joint  note  which  they  had 
together  signed,  two  months  before,  to  raise  money  at  the 
bank  for  current  church  expenses.  However,  they  tried 
to  feel  the  religious  significance  of  the  hymn,  remote  as 
it  was,  and  came  back,  with  a  sigh,  to  the  reading,  by 
the  treasurer,  of  the  year's  accounts. 

A  large  part  of  the  long  list  of  items  of  expenditure 
awakened  no  special  interest ;  and  Mr.  Pidge,  the  treas 
urer,  read  rapidly  in  an  attenuated  metallic  voice.  This 
was  Mr.  Pidge's  one  hour  of  glory,  in  the  monotonous 
circling  twelve  months.  He  was  a  slender,  dried-up 
creature,  of  fifty  years,  with  small  head,  and  no  hair 
worth  mentioning  above  the  level  of  his  abnormally 
large  ears ;  but  below  that  level  he  was  fairly  well 
supplied  with  bristling  hair  of  flaming  red,  and  he  made 
the  most  of  it.  He  cultivated  two  large  "  sides,"  which 
fell,  like  the  pendulous  ears  of  a  beagle,  far  down  on 
either  side,  and  he  ingeniously  contrived  to  merge 
his  rather  slender  anxious  mustache  with  the  hair  of 


6  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

his  chin,  near  the  corners  of  his  mouth  ;  so  that,  taken 
all  together,  Mr.  Pidge  could  very  properly  hold  up  his 
head  among  bearded  men.  Yes,  and  when  he  did  hold 
it  up,  it  could  be  seen ;  it  shone  and  shimmered,  and 
outrivalled  the  marble  skull  on  the  statue  of  some 
mediaeval  saint. 

Ordinarily  Mr.  Pidge  was  of  a  retiring  nature ;  alert 
as  a  grasshopper,  he  rarely  gave  tongue.  Mr.  Pidge 
distrusted  himself ;  and  his  little  beady,  red-rimmed 
eyes  seemed  to  be  watching  for  signs  of  distrust  in 
other  people.  Then,  too,  Mr.  Pidge  was  of  a  retiring 
and  even  repressed  mental  diathesis,  partly  because,  for 
years,  in  all  public  meetings  and  in  several  boards,  of 
which  he  was  a  member,  he  was  always  chosen  clerk, 
or  scribe,  or  secretary,  —  never  mind  the  official  name! 
the  work  came  to  Mr.  Pidge.  Others  made  speeches, 
Mr.  Pidge  recorded  them ;  others  offered  resolutions, 
Mr.  Pidge  sat  up  late  to  transcribe  them ;  others  were 
appointed,  "with  the  secretary,  Mr.  Pidge,"  to  revise 
constitutions  and  draft  by-laws,  it  was  Mr.  Pidge  — 
stealing  a  few  minutes  at  a  time  from  his  regular 
clerkly  duties  at  the  hay  and  grain  office  —  who  really  did 
the  work.  Thus  Mr.  Pidge's  baldness  became  more  and 
more  pronounced,  his  thin  shoulders  took  on  a  sharper 
stoop,  and  his  piping  voice  thinned  to  a  more  metallic 
timbre.  But  his  eye  was  clear,  the  red  hairy  growth  of 
underbrush  encircled  the  lower  half  of  his  skull  as  a  fiery 
assertiveness  of  masculinity,  and  his  hand  was  steady 
and  clever  in  its  rapid  tracing  of  letters  and  figures. 

From  Mr.  Pidge's  full  itemized  report,  two  things 
were  evident  to  all  present ;  and,  without  any  open 
word  as  yet,  every  man  was  thinking  about  them. 
They  were  these  items,  widely  separated,  in  the  three- 
page  report,  yet  invisibly  connected  by  every  listener : 
first,  what  Mr.  Pidge  always  called,  always  had  called, 


THE   ANNUAL   MEETING  7 

and  always  would  call,  "  a  deffissit "  (accent  on  penulti 
mate);  and  second,  a  "falling-off  in  pew-rentals."  The 
deficit  was  about  one  thousand  dollars,  and  the  falling- 
off  in  pew-rentals  was  about  five  hundred  dollars.  The 
shortage,  additional  to  this  failure  of  rentals,  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  a  certain  capitalist,  who  had  been  holding 
some  mine  stock  (long  ago  given  to  the  church  by  a 
"pillar,"  now  gone  to  his  reward),  had  thrown  the  stock 
back  on  the  treasurer,  with  the  curt  explanation  that  the 
stock  never  had  been  worth  anything,  but  he  had  paid 
a  few  years'  premiums  on  it,  for  the  sake  of  the  church 
and  the  memory  of  his  mother  who  had  worshipped 
there.  This  reversal  had  been  known  for  a  month 
past  by  several  of  the  trustees,  and  they  had  disinterred, 
many  times  over,  the  memory  of  that  sainted  "  pillar," 
and  had  said  very  plain  things  about  him,  in  the  bosom 
of  their  families,  and  had  considerably  recast  their 
phraseology  about  him  whenever  they  had  occasion  to 
mention  him  in  prayer-meeting. 

However,  that  item  of  the  report  could  not  be  altered, 
or  in  any  way  affected.  But  there  were  two  other  points 
which  must  be  considered :  these  were  the  two  which 
had  really  brought  the  trustees  together ;  they  all  knew  it, 
and  they  straightway  took  them  up.  Mr.  Blaney,  a  short, 
dark,  nervous  man  of  forty  years,  rose  from  his  seat  and 
cleared  his  throat.  Now  if  Mr.  Blaney,  or  any  of  the 
men  present,  had  spoken  the  exact  truth,  as  each  held 
it  and  faced  it  and  rebelled  at  it  in  his  own  heart,  he 
would  have  said  briefly  :  "  Mr.  Chairman,  we  all  see 
that  we  have  run  behind,  in  our  income,  one  thousand 
dollars ;  the  reporter  of  the  Morning  Courier  will  drop 
in  here,  a  half  hour  hence,  to  ask  for  an  item.  We  will 
not  tell  him  the  plain  truth,  for  we  will  not  have  our 
weakness  known  to  the  town  in  general  and  to  the  other 
churches  in  particular.  We  must  therefore  adopt  some 


8  RONALD    CARXAQUAY 

subterfuge,  by  which  we  can  cover  our  decrease  in  num 
bers  and  income.     What  shall  it  be  ?  " 

That  was  what  every  one  of  them  was  really  think 
ing,  but  not  one  of  them  would  have  expressed  it. 
Furthermore,  in  that  same  overchurched  town,  during 
that  same  month,  a  half  dozen  other  boards  of  trustees 
would  face  the  same  problem,  and  would  "  hedge " 
about  it  in  the  same  way ;  and  this  was  the  commonly 
adopted  way.  "  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Mr.  Blaney,  speak 
ing  with  fluency  and  rapidity,  his  shifty  eyes  skimming 
lightly  about  the  room,  his  words  the  redundant  out 
pouring  of  one  who  loved  talk  more  than  life  (at  least 
more  than  money ;  for  the  voluble  little  man  had  talked 
himself  out  of  several  good  clerkships),  —  "  Mr.  Chair 
man,  we  have  listened,  with  great  interest  and  pleasure, 
to  this  very  full  and  complete  and  comprehensive  re 
port,  which  our  honored  brother,  Mr.  Pidge,  has  pre 
pared  and  given  to  us  here  this  evening.  Whatever 
Mr.  Pidge's  hand  finds  to  do,  that  it  does  with  zeal  and 
might."  (With  a  profound  bow  in  Mr.  Pidge's  direction. 
Mr.  Pidge  apparently  absorbed  in  writing  notes.  Mr. 
Blaney  had  been  Mr.  Pidge's  unsuccessful  competitor 
for  the  parish  clerkship  ten  years  before.)  "  Mr.  Chair 
man,  it  now  behooves  us,  as  loyal  stewards  of  the  Lord, 
in  view  of  this  inevitable  and  unavoidable  deficit  "  — (ac 
cent  very  distinctly  put  on  first  syllable,  for  the  benefit  of 
Mr.  — well,  for  the  benefit  of  any  illiterate  person  who 
might  be  present) —  "in  view  of  this  regrettable  deficit, 
it  behooves  us  to  consider  and  take  counsel  together, 
and  adopt  such  means  and  measures  as  shall  seem 
probably  and  likely,  in  God's  providence,  to  bring  us 
forth  from  our  wilderness  of  wanderings,  and  set  our 
feet  again  in  the  highway  of  prosperity,  and  make 
our  desert  to  blossom  as  the  rose,  and  the  towers  of 
our  Zion  to  shine  afar  in  the  face  of  her  enemies." 


THE   ANNUAL   MEETING  9 

Translated,  that  meant,  "  Let's  put  on  a  bold  front 
and  raise  this  money,  or  seem  to,  and  fix  up  our  report 
for  the  public  to  read,  and  show  the  town  that  we  are 
not  dead  yet !  "  This  was,  in  substance,  what  Dr.  Mixer 
had  said  to  Mr.  Blaney  the  day  before ;  and  Mr.  Blaney 
now  gave  it  out  to  the  meeting,  in  his  own  copious  ver 
biage,  quite  to  the  satisfaction  of  Dr.  Mixer,  and  always 
to  the  silent  and  sometimes  to  the  envious  admiration  of 
all  present.  There  were  two  men  in  that  company  who 
had  an  almost  boundless  admiration  for  what  they  would 
have  called  "the  gift  of  language,"  as  exemplified  in 
Mr.  Blaney.  One  of  these  men  was  Dr.  Mixer,  who 
had  made  his  way  by  a  shrewd  wit,  concealed  behind  a 
continuous  succession  of  creasy  smiles.  "The  Doctor," 
as  he  loved  best  to  be  called,  could  think  his  way  very 
clearly  to  the  logical  financial  goal  of  an  investment  in 
real  estate,  but  could  not  steer,  with  any  sort  of  success, 
through  the  shoals  and  reefs  of  public  speech.  He  had 
made  trial  of  it ;  he  had  known  the  unrest  of  ambition 
for  oratorical  dominance,  but  two  or  three  disastrous 
failures  had  cured  him,  and  restored  his  usual  shrewd 
estimate  of  his  own  powers.  But  his  personal  failure, 
in  this  showy  field,  made  him  the  more  admiring  of  the 
gift  of  fluency  (or  fluidity)  in  others ;  and  although  he 
often  quietly  despised  the  lack  of  self-control  which 
allowed  his  henchman  Blaney  to  "go  off  at  half-cock," 
on  any  and  all  subjects  and  occasions,  yet,  given  the 
right  time  and  theme,  Blaney  was  often  very  "  happy  " 
in  his  weaving  of  words,  like  colored  yarns,  into  a  fabric 
which  was  without  definite  design.  So  "The  Doctor" 
despised  and  admired  and  at  times  even  almost  hated 
him  ;  but  these  various  emotions  did  not  prevent  his  using 
his  voluble  friend,  sometimes  to  their  mutual  advantage, 
sometimes  not. 

The  other  man  who  most   admired   such    speech  as 


io  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

came  easily  to  Mr.  Blaney's  tongue  was  Mr.  Marshall. 
He  was  a  large,  shy  man,  honest  in  eye,  upright  in  deed, 
slow  in  thought,  and  even  slower  in  speech.  He  was  a 
comparatively  new  man  in  the  society,  and  was  not  con 
sidered  quite  sound  in  the  faith  by  some  who  had  talked 
with  him  in  the  Bible  Class ;  but  the  woollen  mill,  of 
which  he  was  now  owner,  after  years  of  hard  work,  was 
very  prosperous ;  and  Mr.  Marshall  had  recently  changed 
his  residence  —  pushed  to  it  by  his  wife  —  from  a  small 
house  on  an  obscure  street  to  a  large  one  on  the  main 
avenue ;  so  that  his  eligibility  to  the  board  had  become 
quite  evident,  and  his  wife  had  compelled  him  to  accept 
the  election,  and  thus  to  move  one  more  step  toward 
the  social  front. 

Over  the  plain,  matter-of-fact,  sincere  nature  of  Mr. 
Marshall,  Blaney's  fluent  delivery  of  sonorous  words  and 
rounded  sentences  always  acted  like  a  charm ;  he  was 
fascinated  by  them.  Such  power  as  a  man  like  Mr. 
Blaney  possessed  seemed  to  him  quite  beyond  any 
quality  which  he  could  ever  hope  to  command  ;  yet  the 
town  in  general  understood  that  few  men  could  equal 
Thomas  Marshall  in  sifting  the  essentials  of  a  compli 
cated  business  tangle  from  the  non-essentials.  He  had 
the  valuable  faculty  of  seeing  facts  as  they  really  were, 
in  the  world  of  business ;  which  is  a  faculty  not  pos 
sessed  by  everybody,  and  least  of  all  by  a  fanciful  nature 
like  Mr.  Blaney's,  who  sees  rainbows  spanning  the 
mountain  tops  and  arching  to  pots  of  gold  in  the  valleys, 
when  the  plain  truth  is  that  these  bows  of  promise  are 
only  arcs  of  small  dimension,  hazily  seen  amid  the  spray 
cast  up  by  the  fountain  of  its  own  effervescent  tempera 
ment. 

So  Mr.  Marshall  did  what  many  another  single-minded 
modest  soul  has  done,  heartily  and  humbly  admired  one 
who  was  inferior  to  himself,  for  showy  qualities  which 


THE   ANNUAL   MEETING  n 

were  not  comparable  with  the  sturdy  virtues  and  solid 
worth  of  his  own  nature.  Consequently,  Mr.  Marshall 
kindled  under  the  glow  of  Mr.  Blaney's  rhetoric ;  and, 
after  a  brief  pause  had  followed  that  gentleman's  sub 
sidence,  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  punishable  schoolboy,  and  murmured  indis 
tinctly,  "  Let's  make  up  the  difference !  "  Then  he 
grew  red  at  his  own  temerity  in  thus  breaking  in  upon 
the  order  of  a  formal  meeting,  and  pulled  nervously  at 
his  heavy  black  beard,  as  if  bent  on  having  it  out  by  the 
roots  then  and  there. 

Dr.  Mixer  was  sitting  comfortably  at  the  desk,  a 
big  palm-leaf  fan  in  each  hand,  looking  uncommonly 
like  an  elephant  fanning  himself  with  his  ears ;  his 
full-moon  face  wore  an  expression  of  remote  but  kindly 
approval  of  whatever  might  be  said  or  done ;  in  fact,  he 
was  reasonably  sure,  beforehand,  of  the  general  course 
of  events.  At  the  half-audible  remarks  of  Mr.  Marshall 
his  half-closed  eyes  brightened  perceptibly.  He  was 
commonly  believed  to  be  slightly,  very  slightly,  deaf ; 
that  was  a  belief  which,  however  well  or  ill  founded, 
\vas  a  very  useful  one,  at  times,  to  him.  If  only  you 
can  lead  an  inquisitive  customer  to  repeat  his  trouble 
some  questions  about  some  medicine,  you  gain  time  to 
prescribe  for  him  the  exact  —  well,  not  the  exact  truth, 
but  the  exact  answer  which  his  nature  needs.  Dr. 
Mixer,  "  Chemist,"  did  a  considerable  amount  of  that 
sort  of  prescription  work ;  and  such  prescriptions  were 
always  sugar-coated  with  a  benevolent,  mucilaginous 
smile.  Then,  too,  a  reputation  for  being  "  hard  of 
hearing "  was  very  useful,  at  times,  when  an  angry 
customer  presented  himself,  after  absorbing  into  his 
corporeality  the  vitalizing  forces  of  a  twentieth  bottle 
of  Emollient,  and  declared  angrily  that  his  back  was  as 
stiff  as  ever,  and  his  mouth  had  the  same  bad  taste  in 


12  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

the  morning,  and  the  Emollient  was  a  fraud,  and  the 
money  should  be  refunded,  and  the  apothecary  who 
sold  such  stuff  ought,  etc.,  etc.  At  such  trying  times 
the  "Doctor"  beamed  more  expansively  than  ever, 
put  his  palm  helpfully  behind  his  ear,  and  then  sud 
denly  noticed  that  his  clerk  was  calling  him,  from 
behind  the  gilded  screen  in  the  rear  of  the  store,  and 
moved  apologetically,  but  rapidly,  away,  leaving  his 
benevolent  smile  resting  upon  that  irate  customer  like 
a  benediction  of  regretful  kindliness. 

In  these  ways  Dr.  Mixer  was  often  surprisingly  deaf ; 
yet  again  there  were  times  when  his  hearing  was  micro 
scopic,  or  micro-audic,  so  to  say.  As  in  the  present 
case,  he  was  always  marvellously  quick  to  hear  any 
offer  of  money ;  and  he  ceased,  for  a  moment,  to  ply 
his  fans,  and  asked  slowly,  "Yes,  Brother  Marshall, 
and  how  soon  do  you  think  we  could  raise  the  amount, 
one  thousand,  required  ?  " 

Mr.  Marshall  again  became  red,  and  stirred  uneasily 
in  his  seat.  All  were  awaiting  his  reply;  he  must  speak — 
he  must  actually  break  that  oppressive,  expectant  silence. 
Words  always  came  from  him,  at  such  formal  times,  with 
far  greater  difficulty  than  dollars ;  he  could  not  find  his 
first  syllable ;  and  he  nudged  his  next  neighbor,  and 
whispered  violently,  —  so  violently  that  all  present 
could  hear  perfectly  well,  —  "Tell  him  I'll  give  a  hun 
dred  ! "  Then  he  sank  back  and  pulled  desperately  at 
his-beard. 

"Brother  Marshall  says  he  will  give  a  hundred;" 
called  out  the  man  thus  addressed;  and  he  sat  up 
quite  straight,  as  he  made  this  announcement,  being 
himself  a  man  of  meagre  possessions,  unable  to  make 
so  large  a  subscription,  yet  with  a  sudden  feeling  that 
in  naming  this  large  sum  for  his  neighbor  he  became 
somehow  involved  creditably  in  the  generosity  of  the  act. 


THE   ANNUAL   MEETING  13 

Then  "  Brother  Blaney,"  being  "  inside  "  the  methods 
of  church  management,  arose  and  made  another  little 
speech,  in  which  he  eloquently  referred  to  the  invari 
able  generosity  of  Brother  Marshall,  and  then  passed  into 
a  series  of  etymological  and  grammatical  and  rhetorical 
convolutions  which  stranded  Mr.  Marshall,  but  was 
understood  by  the  chairman  and  a  few  others ;  so  that 
when  he  finished,  Dr.  Mixer  quickly  took  up  the  thread. 
"Yes,  I  agree  with  the  brother,  that  we  would  need  at 
least  a  week  to  canvass  the  society ;  and,  at  his  sugges 
tion,  I  name  Brother  Marshall  and  Brother  Nelson  as 
a  committee  for  this  important  work.  The  next  ques 
tion  which  we  need  to  consider  is  — "  At  this  point 
the  door  opened  slightly  and  a  slender  young  fellow 
came  in,  glanced  comprehensively  around  the  room, 
and  dropped  into  the  nearest  seat. 

This  was  the  dreaded  reporter  from  the  Morning 
Courier,  and  Dr.  Mixer  was  uneasy.  The  meeting  had 
not  quite  reached  the  stage  where  the  reporter's  visit 
could  safely  be  received  ;  but,  at  an  almost  imperceptible 
nod  of  the  presiding  officer's  head,  Mr.  Blaney  briskly 
arose  and  went  to  the  young  man,  greeted  him  warmly, 
and  led  him  out  into  the  hall,  where  they  remained  talk 
ing  together  for  several  minutes.  The  reporters  always 
liked  to  get  their  accounts  of  fairs  and  picnics  and  con 
ferences  and  other  church  doings  from  Mr.  Blaney, 
because  he  gave  them  verbatim ;  no  need  afterward 
to  retouch  phrases  and  reconstruct  sentences;  from 
Mr.  Blaney's  lips  words  and  clauses  fell  into  their 
places  as  perfectly  as  did  the  previously  planned  and 
carefully  squared  stones  and  timbers  of  Solomon's 
noiselessly  built  temple. 

Therefore  it  mattered  not  very  greatly  what  was  done 
during  the  remainder  of  the  meeting  of  the  trustees. 
Dr.  Mixer  presided  tranquilly ;  for  he  and  Mr.  Blaney, 


i4  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

and  one  or  two  others  of  the  board,  knew  that  the 
Morning  Courier  would  contain  —  as  indeed  it  did  — 
the  next  day,  a  glowing  account  of  the  "zeal  and 
earnestness  of  Emmanuel  Church,"  with  this  casual 
statement  at  the  end,  that  the  treasurer's  report  showed 
a  balance  on  hand,  for  year  now  closed,  of  $61.17. 

Thus  the  pride  of  all  the  church  members  was  pre 
served,  the  voice  of  criticism  and  calumny  was  nipped 
in  the  bud,  and  —  one  other  quiet  fact — Mr.  Pidge, 
treasurer,  filed  away  a  check  for  $1061.17,  signed  by 
G.  Washington  Mixer,  and  knew  that  the  note  on 
demand,  which  he  had  given  in  exchange,  would  be 
presented  by  the  "  Doctor "  as  soon  as  the  subscrip 
tion  committee  had  accomplished  their  distasteful  work. 
Thus  were  the  annoying  exactions  of  financial  loans  met, 
thus  was  the  "  Zion  "  of  Emmanuel  Church  vindicated  in 
the  face  of  her  enemies,  thus  was  the  cause  of  "  Reli 
gion  "  made  to  triumph  over  the  opposition  and  ill  will 
of  an  unregenerate  world. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    SEAMY    SIDE 

"  Religious  ideas  have  the  fate  of  melodies,  which  one  sets 
afloat  in  the  world,  are  taken  up  by  all  sorts  of  instruments,  coarse, 
feeble,  and  out  of  tune,  until  people  are  in  danger  of  crying  out  that 
the  melody  itself  is  distasteful."  —  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

EMMANUEL  CHURCH  had  never  kept  a  minister  longer 
than  seven  years.  During  its  eventful  existence  of  forty- 
three  years,  this  Vineyard  of  the  Lord  had  been  culti 
vated,  with  varying  success,  by  nine  husbandmen,  now 
toiling  elsewhere,  or  resting  in  heaven.  It  was  the  gen 
eral  impression  that  the  best  and  ablest  and  most  "  con 
secrated  "  of  these  men  were  the  earliest  ones  in  the  list. 
Among  the  later  ones  there  seemed  to  have  been  several 
with  glaring  faults  and  fatal  defects  ;  but  the  farther 
back  you  went  in  your  investigations,  the  more  efficient 
and  admirable  you  found  these  Shepherds  of  the  flock 
to  have  been ;  until,  coming  to  the  man  first  on  the 
list,  the  founder  of  the  society  (the  leader  of  the  exo 
dus  from  the  old  North  Church),  you  would  gain  the 
impression  —  from  the  three  garrulous  old  women  who 
had  formed  a  part  of  that  turbulent  secession  —  that 
those  days  were  a  Golden  Age,  and  that  the  Rev. 
Thaddeus  Meredith  had  walked  always  with  a  saint's 
halo  about  his  head. 

However,  explain  the  many  changes  of  pastors  as 
best  you  could,  the  significant  fact  remained  that 
Emmanuel  Church  had  never  kept  any  minister  long. 
One  incumbent  had  stayed  seven  years,  and  another 
six ;  but  the  others  had  stayed  only  two,  and  three, 

15 


1 6  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

and  four  years  each.  Nevertheless  there  were  not 
wanting  applicants,  whenever  the  news  went  out 
through  the  denomination  that  Emmanuel  pulpit  was 
vacant.  Probably  each  newcomer  felt  that  his  prede 
cessors  need  not  have  failed  as  they  did ;  and  then, 
too,  there  is  in  every  heart,  even  in  the  heart  clerical, 
a  certain  eagerness  for  the  unknown  and  uncertain, 
and  a  fascination  about  pitting  one's  prowess  against 
Chance.  The  only  minister,  in  the  ominously  long 
list,  who  had  gone  away  of  his  own  free  will  and 
choice,  left  behind  him  the  largest  number  of  regret 
ful  admirers.  He  was  a  clever  young  man,  who  was 
born  with  twice  the  worldly  wisdom  ever  attained  by 
most  clergymen,  even  after  forty  years  of  experience; 
and  that  young  man  preached  well,  never  said  the 
wrong  word,  never  reorganized  anything,  distributed 
compliments  freely,  made  each  of  the  ten  leading 
families  feel  that  it  was  the  one  group  nearest  and 
dearest  to  his  heart  out  of  all  the  parish,  praised  the 
beauty  of  the  church  edifice,  extolled  the  character  of 
the  membership,  and  frequently  declared  that  nothing 
could  ever  induce  him  to  leave  such  admirable  people- 
Then,  after  two  bright  years  of  clear-headed  and  cool- 
hearted  work,  he  suddenly  accepted  a  "  call  "  to  another 
church ;  and,  leaving  a  shower  of  graceful,  complimen 
tary,  eloquent  phrases  of  regret  behind  him,  he  took  his 
flight.  And  Emmanuel  Church  put  on  sackcloth  and 
bought  a  large  photograph  of  him  for  the  chapel;  and 
only  a  few  penetrating  minds  ever  discovered  that  the 
talented  young  man  had  never  cared  an  atom  for  any 
body  in  the  church,  and  had  viewed  his  professional 
life  precisely  as  a  shrewd  lawyer  views  his,  and  had 
conducted  it  with  unvarying  skill  and  eminent  success. 
Still,  these  people  of  independent  judgment  were 
very  few  in  number.  The  large  majority  mourned  their 


THE   SEAMY   SIDE  17 

brilliant  leader's  departure,  each  feeling  —  as  he  or  she 
recalled  that  last  handshake  and  that  touching  farewell 
on  the  street,  or  at  the  front  door,  or  just  after  the 
Thursday  meeting  —  that  he  or  she  was  the  one  per 
son  whom  the  young  clergyman  most  regretted  leaving. 

This  brief  pastorate  was  the  only  one,  in  the  long  list, 
where  Emmanuel  Church  had  failed  to  gain  a  firm, 
restraining,  compulsory  grasp  on  its  minister.  During 
the  installation  services,  —  which  had  become  so  fre 
quent  as  almost  to  be  a  bore,  —  Emmanuel  Church 
always  sat  smug  and  silent  and  patient,  under  the 
phrases  unctuously  pronounced  on  such  occasions,  about 
"  this  shepherd  of  his  flock,"  and  "  this  leader  in  the 
fields  of  truth,"  and  all  the  rest  They  let  such  phrases 
pass,  as  fitting  for  the  occasion,  but  meaningless  in  fact ; 
and  within  a  month  the  shepherd  found  that  his  sheep 
had  developed  claws  and  incisors,  and  that  his  leader 
ship  was  about  as  genuine  as  that  of  the  driven  cart 
horse,  who  precedes  his  master,  but  wincingly  obeys 
whip  and  rein. 

Into  some  such  knowledge  of  Emmanuel  Church  as 
this,  its  present  minister,  the  Rev.  Lawrence  Freeman, 
had  slowly  come,  at  the  age  of  thirty-two,  after  an 
experience  of  three  years  as  assistant  in  a  large  metro 
politan  church. 

Freeman  was  about  the  last  man  that  his  college  class 
mates  would  have  selected  as  likely  to  become  a  clergy 
man,  and  was,  indeed,  one  of  those  who  were  early 
chosen  to  play  on  the  college  eleven.  He  had  taken 
fair  rank  in  his  studies,  but  had  none  of  those  character 
istics —  delicacy  of  frame,  sedentary  tendencies,  a  gift 
of  fluent  speech,  gentleness  of  manners,  and  the  like — 
which  are  supposed  to  early  indicate  the  possession  of 
spiritual  qualities.  And  let  it  here  be  said  that  the 
clergyman  who  boasts,  with  ill-concealed  pride,  that 


1 8  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

from  his  earliest  childhood  he  desired  to  be  a  minis 
ter,  probably  has  not  developed  into  the  strong,  earnest, 
self-reliant  type  which  this  materialistic  age  most  needs ; 
for  no  child  of  five  or  ten  can  really  perceive  the  essen 
tial  requisites  of  the  clerical  life,  and  if  drawn  toward  it, 
is  so  drawn  because  of  an  innate  love  of  declamation 
and  a  desire  for  the  fancied  superiority  of  the  man  who 
is  allowed  to  hold  forth  in  sermons  and  addresses. 

However,  this  was  far  from  the  thought  and  purpose 
of  Lawrence  Freeman.  Up  to  the  age  of  twenty,  he 
had  never  seriously  considered  the  ministry  as  a  possible 
vocation ;  but  an  accidental  interest,  which  was  aroused 
in  him  by  work  in  a  "  Boys'  Club,"  and  several  conver 
sations  with  an  older  cousin,  a  clergyman,  whom  he 
much  respected — these  had  deeply  influenced  him. 
By  nature  he  had  but  little  fluency,  and,  at  that  age,  no 
especial  literary  faculty.  But  deep  in  his  heart  was  a 
rich  well  of  pity  and  sympathy,  and  he  possessed  a  nat 
urally  devout  spirit;  so  that  the  few  college  men  who 
knew  him  intimately  easily  understood  his  choice  of 
profession.  But  those  outside  this  circle  laughed  when 
they  learned  about  it ;  and  some  jested  over  the  fierce 
and  protracted  fight  he  had,  in  the  sophomore  year, 
with  a  policeman  ;  and  one  recalled  the  cause  of  the 
"beauty  mark"  which  Freeman  carried  in  a  long  scar 
on  his  right  temple,  where  he  and  a  brutal  teamster  had 
gone  down  in  a  heap  over  a  stairway  together,  the  team 
ster  having  held  a  screaming  dog  up  by  one  ear  too  long 
for  Freeman's  sympathies  and  nerves. 

Thus  it  will  be  understood  that  the  sturdy  young  man, 
of  medium  height,  determined  face,  fearless  gray  eyes, 
and  scarred  forehead,  was  not  of  the  conventional  clerical 
type ;  but  he  had  set  himself,  with  dogged  earnestness, 
to  meet  both  the  inner  and  outer  requirements  of  his 
calling,  and  his  work  as  an  assistant  minister  had  been 


THE   SEAMY   SIDE  19 

a  true,  though  not  a  brilliant,  success.  With  his  three 
years'  experience  behind  him,  he  presented  himself  to 
Emmanuel  Church.  There  was  little  of  a  showy  charac 
ter  in  him  to  impress  one,  but  he  was  —  as  a  friend  had 
said  of  him  emphatically  —  "a  man's  minister,"  rather 
than  "  a  woman's  minister."  Yet  it  had  frequently  hap 
pened  that  some  woman  in  distress  and  under  trial  had 
found  in  him  a  quick,  delicate  sympathy,  which,  in  her 
lighter  modes  and  easier  conditions,  she  had  not  sus 
pected. 

Freeman  had  never  found  it  easy  to  express  in  words 
his  really  abundant  emotions,  except  to  his  wife.  This 
natural  lack  was  a  real  regret  to  him.  He  was  a  sincere, 
earnest  man,  with  high  ideals  of  his  chosen  profession, 
with  thorough  training  behind  him,  in  college  and  semi 
nary  and  at  Leipsic,  yet  without  any  striking  originality 
of  thought  or  especial  grace  of  manner. 

Little  as  he  realized  it,  the  leaders  in  the  church  soon 
began  to  feel  that  they  had  been  deceived  in  calling  him. 
Unimportant  as  the  matter  seemed  to  a  genuine,  manly 
young  fellow  like  him,  it  nevertheless  had  been  an  im 
portant  factor  in  the  "  call  "  of  the  society  that  his  father 
was  a  well-known  college  president  and  his  mother  was 
the  daughter  of  a  famous  historian.  So  that,  when  Dr. 
Mixer  and  Mr.  Blaney  and  Mr.  Pidge  and  others  of  that 
ilk  voted  to  "  extend  a  call,"  they  had  a  dimly  defined  feel 
ing  in  their  muddy  hearts  that  they  were  somehow  get 
ting  into  "good  society,"  and  that  they  would  presently 
be  on  intimate  terms  with  people  whose  very  names, 
heretofore,  had  glittered  like  stars  in  a  clear  but  cold 
and  distant  sky. 

Therefore,  Mr.  Freeman  had  been  called ;  he  had 
taken,  in  good  earnest,  the  smooth,  flattering  phrases 
from  Mr.  Blaney's  pen, — but  signed  by  G.  Washington 
Mixer,  Chairman,  —  and  with  good  will  toward  his  new 


20  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

flock,  and  a  prayer  to  Heaven  for  strength  and  wisdom, 
he  had  entered  on  his  work.  That  had  happened  fifteen 
months  before ;  and  not  once  had  Dr.  G.  Washington 
Mixer  been  invited  to  the  parsonage  to  meet  the  college 
president  or  the  famous  historian ;  and,  in  some  vague 
way,  the  society  felt  that  it  had  been  grossly  deceived, 
and  it  nourished  its  growing  grievance. 

Into  the  true  "inwardness"  of  this  malicious  snobbery 
Lawrence  Freeman  never  fully  penetrated.  It  was  so 
foreign  to  the  simple  instincts  of  his  truth-loving  nature 
that  he  could  not  be  made  to  credit  it,  even  after  re 
peated  observations  by  his  clear-headed  and  self-reliant 
wife,  the  eldest  of  six  sons  and  daughters,  in  a  success 
ful  manufacturer's  family. 

In  college  he  had  lived  simply,  perforce,  and  had 
chosen  for  a  chum,  in  the  sophomore  year,  an  ath 
letic,  whole-souled,  enthusiastic  son  of  a  prosperous 
dry-goods  merchant.  That  a  young  fellow  should  have 
a  college  president  for  a  father  seemed  to  Lawrence 
the  easiest  thing  in  the  world ;  and  that  his  mother 
should  be  the  daughter  of  the  famous  historian  had  no 
especial  value  for  him,  because  it  had  cost  him  nothing. 
Such  are  the  standards  and  points  of  view  of  a  healthful, 
properly  trained,  young  American  manhood.  Still,  there 
were  many  traits  that  Lawrence  liked,  in  men  and  women, 
and  many  that  he  did  not  like.  His  dignified  silence,  in 
the  presence  of  coarseness  of  speech  or  boorishness  of 
manner,  by  no  means  "gave  consent."  At  first  this 
simplicity  of  personal  bearing  puzzled  the  pretentious 
leaders  of  Emmanuel  Church  ;  they  were  extremely  con 
scious  of  the  young  man's  family  relationships,  and  were 
pleased  that  he  had  received  a  Ph.D.  and  had  studied  at 
Leipsic.  All  this  screwed  them  up  to  a  high  notch  of  ex 
pectancy  ;  but,  as  they  met  him,  day  after  day,  none  of 
these  high  distinctions  showed  itself ;  there  was  nothing 


THE   SEAMY  SIDE  21 

of  that  stilted  style  of  speech,  or  reference  to  distinguished 
relatives,  which  they  had  expected,  and  which,  among 
men  of  the  Mixer-Blaney  type,  is  secretly  believed  to  be 
the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  patrician  birth  or  intel 
lectual  eminence.  Therefore,  after  approaching  him  on 
various  sides,  expectant  of  a  certain  loftiness  of  manner 
and  speech  which  they  were  resolved,  individually,  to 
attain  unto,  and  finding  themselves  always  met  with  the 
simple  directness  which  flowed  naturally  from  a  sincere, 
earnest  soul,  they  were  disappointed.  They  never  once 
perceived  those  fine  but  inexorable  inner  ideals  of  deed 
and  word  and  thought  which  distinguish  the  true  patri 
cian  from  the  hopeless  plebeian.  There  was  always  the 
attempt,  on  the  part  of  certain  Philistine  leaders  of  the 
church,  to  penetrate  and  lay  waste  that  inner  citadel  of 
silent  personality,  which  the  man  of  gentle  blood  and 
gentle  breeding  always  instinctively  reserves  to  himself, 
except  as  some  appeal  from  distress  and  grief  calls  him 
forth,  with  soul  laid  bare,  to  put  his  heart  close  against 
another  wounded  human  heart,  well-born  or  ill-born,  who 
calls  to  him  for  sympathy. 

All  these  delicacies  of  temperament  were  lost  on  the 
larger  part  of  the  parish.  Especially  were  they  meaning 
less  to  the  so-called  "  leaders  "  in  the  church  ;  and  while 
here  and  there  among  the  humbler  people  there  were 
many  who  saw  and  felt  the  high  quality  of  their  pastor's 
counsel  and  sympathy,  to  the  majority  he  was  unknown  ; 
and  some  suspected  that  he  was  really  and  secretly 
"stuck  up,"  while  others  thought  him  somewhat  "or 
dinary,"  and  lost  all  interest  in  him.  In  the  company 
of  a  man  like  Mr.  Marshall,  even  though  he  was  em 
phatic,  loud  voiced,  and  possessed  of  no  general  "  book- 
learning,"  the  minister  always  felt  great  freedom ;  for 
little  as  the  bluff  mill-owner  knew  about  the  drawing- 
room  code  or  the  conventionalities  of  visiting  cards, 


22 

there  was  a  true  instinct  in  him  and  a  quickness  of  per 
ception,  backed  by  a  warm  heart,  which  prevented  him 
from  being  vulgar  and  made  him  a  congenial  compan 
ion  ;  whereas,  the  members  of  the  Blaney  family,  who 
always  kept  a  "don't  book,"  for  ready  reference,  and 
had  a  cousin  who  had  married  a  French  count  — 
they  always  threw  Mr.  Freeman  into  a  posture  of  de 
fence,  as  they  approached  him ;  and  all  his  strength  of 
Christian  grace  was  needed,  to  keep  him  just  and  sympa 
thetic  toward  them. 

Thus  the  relations  between  Mr.  Freeman  and  Emman 
uel  Church  had  never  been  as  harmonious  and  intimate 
as  had  been  those  between  him  and  the  little  mission 
church  to  which  he  had  formerly  ministered ;  and  these 
inharmonious  relations  were  daily  growing  more  strained. 
Mrs.  Freeman  was  more  clearly  conscious  of  the  widen 
ing  breach  than  was  her  husband.  There  was  in  him 
so  much  love  for  his  flock,  such  an  outpouring  of  good 
will  toward  them,  that  he  could  not  see,  impartially,  the 
veiled  ill-will  or  the  covert  antagonism  which  manifested 
itself  more  and  more  openly.  But  Mrs.  Freeman  caught 
a  whisper,  now  and  then,  which  was  not  intended  for 
her  ears,  or  translated  a  glance  from  some  ingenuous 
child's  face,  which  she  knew  was  reflected  from  the 
fault-finding,  imbittered  family  life  in  which  that  child 
dwelt ;  and,  putting  one  thing  with  another,  Mrs.  Free 
man  felt  her  heart  growing  heavier,  and  wondered  what 
would  be  the  outcome. 

Matters  were  in  this  condition,  at  the  time  of  the  an 
nual  meeting.  The  conclusions  and  decisions  of  the 
trustees  needed,  theoretically,  to  be  laid  before  the  open 
parish,  and  this  was  done ;  but  it  was  an  entirely  formal 
procedure ;  not  a  soul  in  that  promiscuous  assemblage 
would  have  dared  to  amend  or  suggest  anything.  No, 
the  main  interest,  at  that  meeting,  centred  in  the  vari- 


23 

ous  "  activities  "  of  the  parish ;  the  various  societies  and 
clubs  and  leagues  gathered  to  hear  their  doings  for  the 
year  extolled  and  glorified.  If  sifted  down,  most  of  the 
work  done  was  only  a  part  of  the  general  struggle  to 
raise  money  to  keep  the  church  from  falling  behind  in 
its  finances ;  there  were  sales  and  suppers,  concerts  and 
lectures,  sociables  and  teas,  dramatic  entertainments  and 
charade  parties  —  all  aiming  to  beguile  money  from 
guarded  and  reluctant  pockets  ;  but  this  unpleasant  com 
mercial  side  showed  but  slightly,  at  the  annual  parish 
meeting,  in  the  very  brief  report  of  its  treasurer.  It  was 
the  secretary  of  each  of  these  minor  societies  and  leagues 
who  shone  most  illuminatingly ;  and  when  such  a  one, 
equipped  with  a  few  facts  and  a  resplendent  power  of 
verbiage,  read  her  glorified  version  of  the  "good  work" 
done  in  her  department,  you  would  hardly  have  recog 
nized  the  hard  lines  of  poverty  beneath  those  graceful 
curves  of  conventional  phraseology ;  you  would  hardly 
have  made  out  the  meagre,  shrunken  carcass  of  un 
pleasant  fact,  under  that  flowing  drapery  of  pleasing 
rhetoric. 

One  Monday  morning,  a  few  weeks  after  the  annual 
meeting,  when  the  society,  like  a  leaky  ship,  had 
been  patched  up  for  the  doubtful  voyage  of  another 
year,  the  door-bell  of  the  parsonage  rang  vigorously. 
The  maid  admitted  Mr.  Blaney,  and  notified  her  mis 
tress.  The  hour  was  an  early  one,  and  Mr.  Freeman, 
exhausted  by  his  Sunday's  work,  having  slept  but  little 
up  to  midnight,  had  prolonged  his  morning's  sleep 
and  was  now  eating  a  rather  late  breakfast.  Accord 
ingly,  his  wife  —  always  loving  and  loyal,  but  not  easily 
concealing  her  personal  social  preferences,  or  caring  to 
—  came  into  the  parlor,  to  act,  if  possible,  in  place  of 
her  husband.  She  found  her  suave  visitor  examining 
critically  a  threadbare  place  in  the  old  carpet  (bought 


24  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

by  the  Dorcas  Society,  at  a  second-hand  sale).  She 
stood,  in  frigid  silence,  a  few  moments,  allowing  him  to 
continue  his  investigations,  unconscious  of  her  pres 
ence.  When  he  turned  and  saw  her,  he  was  in  no 
wise  disconcerted,  holding  himself  to  be  a  fractional 
part  of  the  landlordship  of  the  parsonage,  and  a  par 
tial  owner  of  all  its  belongings. 

"  Good  morning  !  "  said  he,  briskly,  forcing  a  face- 
tiousness  of  manner,  which  rendered  him  even  more 
unattractive  than  before.  "  How  is  madam  this  morn 
ing  ? "  And  he  put  out  his  hand,  which  was  coolly 
taken.  "  And  the  pastor,  how  is  he  ?  Resting,  I  trust, 
after  his  Sunday's  labor  ?  " 

There  was  always  a  familiarity  about  the  man  which 
was  offensive  to  Mrs.  Freeman,  and  it  was  doubly  so 
this  morning.  Speaking  as  calmly  as  she  could,  she 
explained  that  her  husband  was  at  breakfast ;  then  she 
pointedly  awaited  her  visitor's  errand. 

"  Ah,  he  is  already  up  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Blaney, 
with  feigned  surprise.  "  And  Monday  morning  ? 
Why,  he  ought  to  rest  all  he  can  on  Monday ;  that 
is  the  minister's  day  of  rest,  you  know."  And  it 
seemed  to  please  him  to  emit  this  time-honored  axiom 
about  the  clerical  life,  notwithstanding  he  had  himself 
come  —  as  would  a  dozen  other  callers,  before  noon  —  to 
claim  a  part  of  this  "day  of  rest"  for  his  own  purposes. 

"  I  will  call  him,"  said  the  wife,  rather  mechanically, 
"  if  you  will  excuse  me."  And  she  added,  not  without 
a  touch  of  irony,  "  You  can  doubtless  find  something 
to  occupy  yourself  with,  for  a  few  moments  more." 

This  little  thrust  was  lost  on  Mr.  Blaney,  whose  mind 
was  always  so  full  of  its  own  budding  fancies,  and  his 
glib  tongue  so  eager  to  express  them,  that  he  rarely 
gave  close  attention  to  the  ideas  or  feelings  of  other 
people. 


THE   SEAMY  SIDE  25 

When  Mr.  Freeman  came  in,  his  visitor  greeted  him 
with  a  voluble  effusiveness  which  betokened  ill ;  and 
the  tired  minister  took  a  renewed  grasp  of  his  jaded 
nerves,  in  anticipation  of  any  hard  strain  which  might 
come  to  them.  After  a  few  moments  of  random  con 
versation,  Mr.  Blaney  gave  a  preliminary  ahem  and 
said,  "I  called  to  see  you  this  morning  to  —  to  —  not 
in  any  official  capacity,  but  as  a  friend  —  simply  as  a 
friend  —  to  talk  over  with  you  the  somewhat  —  er  — 
somewhat  involved  and  —  er  —  burdensome  condition 
of  the  finances  of  the  parish." 

"Yes,"  responded  Mr.  Freeman,  with  brevity. 

"  Of  course  you  cannot  be  wholly  unaware,"  said  Mr. 
Blaney,  looking  out  of  the  window,  "  even  absorbed  as 
you  are  in  the  —  in  the  —  er  —  spiritual  interests  of 
your  flock,  that  —  that  the  temporal  affairs  of  the 
parish  are  —  are  becoming  somewhat  a  matter  of  anx 
iety —  of  anxiety  —  to — "  He  was  about  to  say  "to 
the  parish  committee,"  but  that  would  be  showing 
his  hand  too  openly ;  so  he  said,  "  to  the  parish  in 
general." 

"I  am  not  in  ignorance  of  the  matter,"  responded 
the  minister,  calmly,  and  looking  directly  at  Mr. 
Blaney. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  continued  the  visitor;  and  his 
voice  now  took  on  an  oily  tone  of  flattery.  "  We  all 
know  how  earnestly  you  labor  in  the  vineyard,  my 
dear  pastor.  We  have  never  had  a  minister  who  was 
more  consecrated." 

"  You  have  had  a  great  many,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Freeman,  dryly ;  and  Mr.  Blaney  was  surprised  and 
puzzled  at  the  remark.  He  fidgeted  for  a  moment, 
but  Mr.  Freeman  did  not  help  him  out. 

"Well,  this  is  a  hard  world,"  he  presently  volun 
teered.  "  And  facts  are  difficult  things  to  deal  with  ; 


26  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

this  fact  of  our  shortage  in  our  receipts,  for  example. 
I  merely  thought  that  —  that  I  would  come  and  :alk  it 
over  with  you,  in  a  friendly  way,  and  together  —  we 
might —  er  —  think  of  some  —  er  —  remedy." 

Mr.  Freeman  looked  continuously  at  his  visitor's  face, 
but  rarely  caught  his  direct  gaze.  Despite  Mr.  Elaney's 
frequent  boast  that  he  was  not  "thin  skinned,"  he  really 
was.  He  was  naturally  a  sensitive  person ;  but  he  had 
scarified  his  sensibilities  by  repeated  meannesses,  had 
been  guilty  often  of  despicable  deeds  ;  and  the  results 
showed  in  his  face  and  manner,  as  they  do  not  show  in 
a  man  equally  mean  but  more  stolid.  So  he  pushed 
nervously  on,  in  his  errand,  and  fancied  himself  an  in 
trepid  leader  of  men,  which  he  never  could  be  ;  he  had 
become  only  an  errand-boy  for  real  leaders. 

"  Now  as  to  this  matter  of — "  (he  was  about  to  say 
"retrenchment,"  but  he  changed  it  to  "policy")  "  —  I 
thought  you  might  have  something  to  suggest;  I  —  " 

Mr.  Freeman  quietly  interrupted,  "  If  you  remember, 
Mr.  Blaney,  when  I  came  to  this  parish,  it  was  you 
yourself  who  informed  me  that  I  was  not  to  '  meddle ' 
—  as  you  expressed  it  —  with  the  business  affairs  of  the 
church,  but  give  my  attention  solely  to  its  spiritual 
concerns." 

This  was  true.  It  is  what  is  nearly  always  said  or 
implied  to  every  newly-installed  minister,  and  yet  every 
one  who  really  knows  about  the  working  of  a  sordidly 
managed  parish,  like  the  one  I  am  describing,  knows 
that,  despite  this  lofty  "  hands  off "  to  the  new  pastor, 
the  worth  of  his  work  is  sooner  or  later  judged  by  the 
size  of  his  congregations,  and  his  value  is  measured  by 
the  treasurer's  receipts.  Still,  the  pleasant  fiction  is 
kept  up,  and  such  a  minister,  who  probably  knows  more 
about  every  side  of  the  church  life,  financial  and  spirit 
ual,  than  does  anybody  else  in  it,  is  often  compelled  to 


THE   SEAMY   SIDE  27 

remain  silent,  when  he  sees  impossible  methods  pursued, 
and  is  forced  to  stay  his  hand  when  he  groans  inwardly 
over  the  mismanagement  of  officials  who  give  but  little 
close  study  to  the  church's  problems. 

At  first  Mr.  Freeman  had  rebelled  against  this  condi 
tion  of  things,  but,  after  one  or  two  vain  attempts  to 
meet  the  new  problems  of  the  day  with  new  yet  digni 
fied  measures,  he  had  given  the  matter  up.  Emmanuel 
Church,  like  most  churches,  had  long  ago  settled  into 
the  axiomatic  belief  that  a  minister  of  the  gospel  could 
not  know  anything  about  what  they  called  the  "busi 
ness  end  "  of  his  parish.  Therefore,  as  Mr.  Blaney 
seemed  to  have  the  financial  interests  of  the  society  in 
his  mind,  the  minister  waited  patiently  for  him  to  com 
plete  his  errand. 

"I  am  aware,"  said  the  visitor,  "that  the  pastor  of 
our  church  has  never  been  troubled  with  its  business 
responsibilities,  and  that  is  as  it  should  be  ;  but  —  but 
in  this  case  —  well,  you  see,  this  is  different ;  this  is  an 
exceptional  state  of  affairs.  We  are  running  behind 
every  clay." 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  pastor,  quietly. 

"  And  we  must  do  —  something  must  be  done  about 
it." 

He  was  really  becoming  confused — was  the  self-confi 
dent  man.  Mr.  Freeman  did  not  help  him  out,  nor  did 
he  relax  an  atom  from  a  certain  lofty  dignity  which 
somewhat  baffled  his  visitor.  If  positions  had  been 
reversed,  Mr.  Blaney,  as  pastor,  would  have  been  fluent 
and  fertile  in  explanations  and  apologies ;  but  now  — 
well,  Mr.  Blaney  saw  that  he  must  say  it  all,  unsup 
ported  ;  and  he  began  to  lose  his  temper,  which  was  of 
a  very  irritable  sort. 

"  Of  course,  you  can  preach  as  you  like ;  but  I  don't 
mind  saying  to  you  that  our  people  like  practical  sub- 


28  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

jects.  They  don't  care  to  listen  to  vague  discourses 
'way  up  in  the  air." 

This  meant,  as  the  preacher  knew,  his  recent  course 
of  sermons  on  "the  relations  of  the  individual  to  the 
community."  But  he  held  his  peace,  and  forced  Mr. 
Blaney  to  go  on.  "  Now  there  was  Mr.  Snelling,  your 
predecessor ;  he  always  kept  right  close  to  practical 
things,  and  he  pleased  everybody." 

It  was  hard  —  this  interview ;  it  was  hard  to  sit,  in 
Christian  patience,  and  hear  such  low  standards  ad 
vocated  ;  but  Mr.  Freeman  had  fought  long  to  master 
his  own  tongue,  and  usually,  now,  could  speak,  or 
keep  silence,  as  he  wished.  In  this  case,  he  ventured 
the  reminder  that  his  predecessor  had  often  been  ac 
cused  of  dealing  too  plainly  with  certain  unpleasant  and 
commonly  tabooed  subjects  in  the  pulpit.  The  difficult 
path  which  many  preachers  of  to-day  must  follow  is  this. 
They  must  preach  what  people  call  "practical  sermons," 
but  they  must  say  nothing  that  disturbs  their  listeners' 
ease  of  mind.  Many  a  preacher  is  allowed  to  talk  about 
the  affairs  of  everyday  life,  but  on  condition  that  he 
shall  not  even  hint  that  the  persons  before  him  fall  in 
the  least  degree  short  of  perfection.  He  must  inveigh 
vigorously  against  "sin,"  but  must  say  nothing  about 
the  real  daily  sins  of  the  people  who  are  in  the  pews. 

Mr.  Blaney  listened,  without  any  especial  sign  of  emo 
tion,  even  of  interest;  and  the  minister  —  who  partly 
regretted  having  stooped  enough  to  attempt  to  reason 
with  the  man  —  saw  that  he  cared  nothing  for  the  truth 
of  the  matter,  but  had  come  with  a  distinct  purpose,  and 
his  real  attention  was  absorbed  in  that.  So,  relapsing 
again  into  cool,  courteous  silence,  Mr.  Freeman  awaited 
what  might  come.  He  saw  how  little  it  availed  to 
attempt  explanations  of  his  own  difficult  position. 
Indeed,  in  his  heart,  and  in  his  talks  with  his  wife,  he 


THE   SEAMY   SIDE  29 

recognized  the  hard,  underlying  ground  of  disaffection 
and  opposition,  which  was,  not  the  subjects  of  his 
sermons,  but  the  smallness  of  the  congregation,  the 
paucity  of  the  church  revenues.  In  this  commercial  age, 
it  is  true  of  an  "  Emmanuel  Church  "  and  of  many  — 
not  all  —  churches,  that  a  preacher  may  speak  or  act 
as  he  likes,  in  the  pulpit,  if  only  he  draws  a  crowd  to 
hear  him ;  if  the  crowd  comes,  and  pays  liberally  to  be 
entertained,  the  "  pillars  "  will  condone  all  defects,  wink 
at  all  extravagances,  and  leave  the  preacher  alone  in 
his  nondescript  "success."  But  so  soon  as  the  public 
interest  flags,  critics  spring  up,  throughout  all  classes 
in  such  a  church,  who  feel  competent  to  instruct  the 
preacher,  and  to  demonstrate  that  he  is  not  a  competent 
man. 

Presently,  the  visitor,  after  beating  about  the  bush 
for  several  minutes,  came  to  the  real  gist  of  his  errand. 
"  There  has  been  considerable  talk,  Mr.  Freeman,  about 
the  best  way  to  cut  down  our  expenses.  Times  are 
rather  hard,  and  interest  rates  are  dropping,  and  some 
of  our  leading  people  have  passed  on,  and  many  of  our 
young  people  have  married  and  moved  away,  and  — 
and  —  "  He  paused,  and  screwed  up  his  mean  face  to 
finish  the  sentence.  Mr.  Freeman  knew  perfectly  well 
what  was  coming.  He  rose  from  his  seat.  "  Mr. 
Blaney,"  he  said  with  a  force  and  weight  which  his 
visitor  had  never  before  suspected,  under  his  usual 
restrained  manner,  "you  need  not  say  any  more.  I 
think  there  is  no  need  to  prolong  this  unpleasant  inter 
view.  I  have  much  to  do  to-day,  and  you  also  doubtless 
have  use  for  your  time.  I  shall  ask  you  to  excuse  me 
from  further  conversation."  And  he  arose  and  delib 
erately  led  the  way  toward  the  door. 

Mr.  Blaney  was  disconcerted.  This  was  a  kind  of 
situation  which  he  was  not  competent  to  meet ;  it  had 


3o  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

risen  to  too  high  a  level.  He,  therefore,  cleared  his 
throat,  forced  a  faint  laugh,  reached  mechanically  for 
his  hat,  and  followed  the  other  to  the  hall.  There  he 
tried  to  say  something  facetious,  and  failed ;  he  put  out 
his  hand,  and  had  it  coolly  ignored.  And  he  went  ner 
vously  and  awkwardly  down  the  steps. 

Mr.  Freeman's  unusual  manner  and  conduct  were  not 
the  sudden  inspiration  of  that  brief  interview.  They 
were  the  outcome  of  many  annoyed,  anxious  hours  and 
nights  of  reflection  and  of  counsel  with  his  wife.  He 
saw  perfectly  what  the  result  must  soon  be,  and  he  had 
taken  his  resolution ;  there  only  remained,  now,  the 
deciding  upon  the  exact  time  when  he  would  openly 
announce  it.  Having,  therefore,  settled  upon  his 
course  of  action,  having  already  decided  to  resign  his 
position  as  pastor  of  Emmanuel  Church,  there  had 
already  arisen  in  his  heart  a  feeling  of  separation  from 
it.  His  sympathies,  which  had  gone  out  so  freely  and 
warmly  before,  now  withdrew  themselves ;  and  he  was 
calmly  resolved  to  consider  anew  his  relation  to  the 
world,  and  to  readjust  himself  afresh  to  its  needs  and 
its  opportunities.  So  that  this  unexpected  coolness 
toward  Mr.  Blaney  was  not  a  spasmodic  outcome  of  that 
one  interview,  but  a  frank  open  expression  of  that  ab 
horrence  for  the  man,  which  the  minister  had  long  felt, 
but  had  earnestly,  though  vainly,  tried  to  overcome. 


CHAPTER  III 

POWERS  BEHIND  THE  THRONE 

"  Woman's  power  is  for  rule,  not  for  battle ;  and  her  intellect  is 
not  for  invention  or  creation,  but  for  sweet  ordering  arrangement 
and  decision."  —  JOHN  RUSKIN. 

THUS  matters  rested  in  Emmanuel  Church  for  sev 
eral  weeks.  Mr.  Blaney  did  not  care  to  describe  exactly 
what  had  happened  at  his  interview  with  his  pastor ; 
but  he  expressed  to  Dr.  Mixer  his  confident  belief,  with 
a  wink  and  a  chuckle,  that  "the  parson  was  going  to 
get  out  before  long."  And  the  twain  awaited  devel 
opments. 

There  was,  however,  another  half,  and  more  than  a 
half,  of  the  life  and  force  of  the  parish,  which  has  not 
yet  been  properly  described,  —  and  that  was  the  female 
portion.  Not  enjoying  the  club  advantages  and  luxu 
ries  of  the  numberless  "  orders  "  and  "  lodges,"  which 
met  the  social  hunger  of  their  husbands  and  brothers 
and  sons,  the  women  of  the  parish  made  the  church, 
with  its  parlors,  their  club.  Consequently,  it  meant  far 
more  to  them  than  it  did  to  the  men.  The  men  stood 
in  the  forefront  and  appeared  to  represent  and  control 
the  parish,  but  the  women  held  the  real  power.  So, 
while  the  men  turned  aside,  for  a  brief  hour  or  two, 
from  their  habitual  paths  of  money-making  or  power- 
getting,  to  consider  the  affairs  of  the  church,  the  women 
bore  its  needs  continually  in  mind ;  and  these  pressing 

31 


32  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

problems  of  church  expenses  and  the  ingenious  devis 
ing  of  "  ways  and  means "  were  always  before  them. 
Many  of  them  felt  the  problems  as  a  burden  ;  but  many 
others  secretly  rejoiced  in  the  semi-mercantile  life  which 
these  needs  opened,  as  larger  than  the  kitchen  life  which 
chronically  encompassed  them.  And  many,  too,  were 
happy  in  manipulating  the  five-  and  ten-dollar  bills  in 
volved,  inasmuch  as  their  household  life  rarely  brought 
them  in  contact  with  any  larger  sum  than  a  few  half 
dollars,  reluctantly  yielded  to  them  by  husbands  who 
readily  signed  checks  of  twenty  or  fifty  dollars,  for 
"extras"  at  the  club,  or  for  "dues"  to  the  "Knights 
of"  this,  or  the  "Grand  Templars  of"  that. 

So  the  camp  of  the  women-folk  was  much  stirred,  and 
there  was  considerable  fluttering  and  tea-drinking,  and 
general  agreement  of  opinion  that  something  must  be 
done.  That  "  something,"  of  course,  in  a  church,  meant 
a  fair,  a  sale,  a  bazaar; — call  it  by  what  name  you  will, 
its  odor  is  the  same.  Now  the  men-folk  really  detested 
fairs ;  for  these  stirred  up  households  which  husbands 
wished  quiet.  And  a  fair,  when  once  under  way,  when 
once  planted  and  grown,  and  in  full,  brief  blossom,  like 
a  century  plant,  exacted  a  certain  amount  of  notice ;  it 
could  not  be  wholly  ignored;  —  the  men  must  take  an 
evening  from  their  other  pressing  engagements  and 
attend.  Moreover,  the  women-folk,  at  such  time,  backed 
by  the  proud  sense  of  efficient  effort  and  laudable  results, 
outside  the  kitchen,  often  took  on  a  resolute  and  asser 
tive  air,  which  seemed  to  many  husbands  a  dangerous 
symptom.  So,  as  a  rule,  the  men  disliked  and  distrusted 
fairs. 

The  women,  however,  liked  them.  Of  course  there 
was  always  a  number  of  women  who  protested  ostenta 
tiously  that  they  could  not  bear  them,  and  that  they 
would  not  "  lift  a  finger  "  ;  but  even  these  duplex  crea- 


33 

tures  really  in  their  hearts  were  not  averse  to  the  pleas 
ing  activity  involved,  and  frequently  might  be  seen 
"  lifting,"  not  only  "  a  finger,"  but  both  hands  and  both 
feet  and  their  voices  as  well,  in  the  excitement  of  "  the 
cause." 

So  it  was  decided  that  the  women  of  the  parish  would 
hold  a  fair.  By  whom  the  decision  was  reached  it 
would  be  hard  to  say;  but,  somehow,  this  settled,  as  a 
conviction,  in  all  female  hearts.  As  for  holding  a  formal 
meeting,  in  proper  parliamentary  fashion,  with  a  chair 
man  and  "motions"  and  yeas  and  nays  —  that  was  be 
yond  the  range  of  most  women  in  the  society ;  although 
a  few  of  the  younger  ones  sometimes  timidly  expressed 
a  preference  for  that  orderly  kind  of  procedure.  So 
the  women-folk  met  —  notice  being  duly  given  from  the 
pulpit  —  under  the  name  of  the  Dorcas  Society ;  and 
when  two  women  had  arrived,  at  that  moment  the  meet 
ing  began.  As  others  came  in,  they  joined  informally  in 
the  talk,  and  the  "meeting"  thus  grew  to  dimensions 
commensurate  with  the  importance  of  the  cause  which 
drew  them  together.  The  shriller  talkers  held  the  floor. 
Fluent  as  all  these  good  folk  were  in  private,  informal 
talk,  the  moment  that  there  was  any  approach  to  a  formal 
speech,  or  the  need  of  it,  their  tongues  all  clave  to  the 
roofs  of  their  mouths.  So  that  when  the  president, 
"Sister"  Jennings,  a  mild,  jelly-fish  sort  of  woman,— 
after  being  repeatedly  prodded  by  "  Sister  "  Moulton's 
umbrella, — banged  weakly  and  then  more  boldly  on  the 
table,  with  her  tin  spectacle-case,  the  tumult  slowly  sub 
sided  until  there  was  comparative  calm.  Not  waiting 
for  entire  quiet,  —  which  would  have  frightened  her  into 
a  state  of  dumb  dignity,  —  Sister  Jennings  said,  as  loudly 
as  she  could,  "  I  think  we —  ought  to  have  —  a  —  fair." 
Then  fifty  bonneted  heads  nodded  vigorously,  and  about 
forty-five  throats  emitted  an  "  m  !  —  m  !  "  and  the  thing 


34  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

was  done ;  the  seed  was  planted,  and  forthwith  began 
to  grow. 

Any  stranger  who  had  glanced  over  that  assemblage 
of  women  might  have  seen  them  as  one  class  —  fifty  indi 
viduals —  imstratified,  homogeneous  soil  in  the  vineyard 
of  the  Lord.  But  such  an  observer,  reaching  such  a 
conclusion,  would  have  made  a  great  mistake.  Be  it 
known,  and  here  recorded,  that  there  is  no  soil  of 
ancient  Latin  cities,  trodden  under  the  feet  of  centuries 
of  civilization,  that  will  show  more  strata  than  will  the 
soil  of  a  half-dead  church,  the  social  structure  of  a 
decaying  parish ! 

Therefore  it  was  an  unhappy  mistake  which  Mrs. 
Train  made,  when  the  question  of  a  "  Chairman  of 
Committees  "  for  the  fair  came  up.  The  meeting  sim 
mered  and  boiled,  and  stewed  and  steamed,  and,  after 
a  while,  certain  things  came  to  the  top,  and  the  presi 
dent  skimmed  them  off.  A  half  dozen  names  and  sug 
gestions  were  floating  there,  and  Mrs  Jennings,  in  her 
confusion,  skimmed  the  wrong  ones ;  for  instance,  mis 
led  by  Mrs.  Train's  determined  voice,  she  announced 
that  Sister  Bellaire  would  be  a  good  chairman. 

Mrs.  Train  was  a  newcomer  in  the  parish,  and  had 
not  yet  "located  "  the  various  strata  therein  embedded  ; 
and,  deducing  too  hastily  from  Mrs.  Bellaire's  fine  equi 
page,  and  her  grand  way  of  sweeping  down  the  middle 
aisle  on  Sunday,  that  she  was  a  person  of  importance  in 
parish  affairs,  Mrs.  Train  had  resolved  to  score  one  for 
herself,  in  Mrs.  Bellaire's  affections,  by  thus  paying  her 
honor.  Ah,  little  did  Mrs.  Train  know  the  "  wheels 
within  wheels  "  which  revolved  and  buzzed  and  whirred 
inside  that  machine,  social  and  ecclesiastical.  Why,  Mrs. 
Bellaire  could  no  more  have  made  that  fair  a  success 
than  could  some  Sioux  squaw  from  the  Western  Plains. 
Not  that  she  lacked  intelligence  or  energy ;  but  she 


POWERS   BEHIND   THE   THRONE  35 

simply  would  have  found  nobody  willing  to  serve  on 
the  various  sub-committees,  which  it  was  the  chairman's 
duty  to  appoint.  Mrs.  Train,  being  a  newcomer,  did 
not  know  that  Mrs.  Bellaire  was  struggling  hard  to  get 
near  the  top  of  the  social  pyramid,  but  as  yet  had  not 
"  arrived."  Mrs.  Bellaire  was  the  wife  of  a  now  pros 
perous  plumber,  who  formerly  himself  had  tinkered  and 
soldered  water-pipes,  and  dug  up  drains ;  people  near  the 
"apex"  do  not  easily  consent  to  overlook  that.  Some 
of  them  could  actually  remember  seeing  his  feet  and 
legs  sticking  out  from  under  their  kitchen  sink,  as  he 
stopped  leaks.  Now  he  was  well-to-do,  and  had  a 
library,  and  bought  all  those  sets  of  subscription  books 
which  nobody  reads,  and  kept  good  horses,  etc.  Mrs. 
Bellaire,  too,  had  risen  with  him.  She  was  possessed  of 
tact  and  cleverness,  but  was  a  little  too  aggressive ; 
tried  to  take  the  social  fortress  by  storm ;  walked  boldly 
up  to  the  entrance  and  the  portcullis  gate,  and  defied  all 
within  (ought  to  have  bowed  her  head  and  tried  one  of 
the  lower-arched  postern-gates);  then  tried,  so  to  speak, 
to  build  a  fortress  of  her  own,  in  full  sight  of  that  other 
one,  but  with  no  success.  It  was  a  creditable  structure, 
but  everybody  knew  (and  she  knew)  that  it  was  not  "  the 
fortress,"  with  really  old  moss  on  it,  and  the  dents  and 
scars  of  past  sieges,  disfiguring  its  walls. 

No,  handsome,  well-dressed  Mrs.  Bellaire  might  hold 
her  head  as  erect  as  she  chose,  sitting  in  her  carriage, 
or  walking  down  the  front  aisle  ;  but  she  was  "  outside," 
and  knew  it,  and  fought  against  it,  and  never  confessed 
it,  even  to  herself.  All  this  was  unknown  to  Mrs.  Train, 
but  is  known  to  you  and  me,  reader,  if  we  have  seen 
much  of  social  life  in  republican  America,  where  caste 
lines  are  as  clearly  defined  as  anywhere  amid  the 
"effete  monarchies  of  Europe."  A  person,  as  pene 
trating  as  yourself,  would  not  have  needed  to  live  in 


36  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

the  social  life  of  Emmanuel  Church  six  months  to  see 
that  it  was  composed  of  several  layers,  one  overlying 
another,  some  of  them  visible,  others  invisible,  to  the 
casual  eye,  but  clinging  together  like  the  tenacious  layers 
of  a  tree-trunk.  Each  layer  held  fast  to  the  layer  within, 
and  would  have  been  glad  to  shake  off  the  layer  without. 
And  who,  pray,  was  at  the  heart  of  this  tree  ?  Who  was 
really  "inside,"  and  could  dictate  to  all  others,  with  little 
fear  of  disobedience?  Who,  indeed,  but  Miss  Leonora 
Metcalf  —  an  elderly,  snowy-haired  spinster,  of  striking 
personal  appearance,  with  a  keen  knowledge  of  affairs 
social,  with  a  power  of  quiet  management  which  would 
have  made  her  a  governor  if  her  sex  had  permitted  it, 
and  with  great  tact  toward  men, — whom  she  secretly 
adored,  and  openly  but  skilfully  flattered.  She  had  a 
very  sound  backing  of  three  generations  of  lawyers,  all 
natives  and  life-long  residents  of  the  town ;  and  it  was 
distinctly  understood,  and  tacitly  admitted,  that  Miss 
Metcalf  stood  first  in  all  society  matters.  A  word  of 
commendation  from  her  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  re 
cipient  ;  and  her  disapproval  withered  the  soul  that  felt 
its  touch. 

So  there  was  really  only  one  way  in  which  to  make 
the  fair  a  success,  only  one  end  by  which  the  snarl  could 
be  unravelled  ;  and  the  president  of  the  Dorcas  Society, 
Mrs.  Jennings,  knew  this  perfectly  well,  so  soon  as  she 
could  collect  her  wits ;  and  she  let  the  humming  and 
buzzing  go  on  for  several  minutes  more,  then  banged  on 
the  desk  and  announced  that  the  meeting  was  dissolved, 
and  that  it  would  meet  again  the  week  following.  She 
said  that  several  preliminary  matters  needed  to  be  at 
tended  to ;  and  most  persons  present  knew  that  she 
meant  that  all  that  was  now  needed  was  —  the  approval 
of  Miss  Metcalf.  With  that  person  enlisted,  either  as 
chairman  or  in  silent  conjunction  with  some  figurehead 


POWERS  BEHIND   THE  THRONE  37 

named  by  her,  all  would  go  well ;  committees  would 
easily  be  filled,  and  the  only  contention  would  be  when 
one  layer  of  the  social  tree  tried  to  merge  itself  in  the 
more  select  layer  next  inside. 

Thus  the  work  of  the  Lord's  vineyard  went  forward. 
Miss  Metcalf  consented  to  accept  the  office  of  Chairman 
of  Committees.  Just  how  she  was  appointed  nobody 
could  say ;  but,  at  the  next  meeting  of  the  Dorcas  So 
ciety,  a  full  list  of  committees  was  read,  and  nobody 
dared  to  murmur  a  word  of  opposition.  All  recognized 
the  Metcalf  touch,  and  knew  that  it  was  a  skilled  one. 
Mrs.  Jennings  read  the  list ;  but  while  the  hands  were 
those  of  Esau,  the  voice  was  that  of  Jacob. 

Naturally,  when  so  many  "  workers  in  the  vineyard  " 
met,  the  opportunity  thus  given  for  discussion  of  church 
affairs  was  not  neglected.  As  the  meeting  dissolved, 
and  the  number  was  reduced  to  a  half  dozen,  expressions 
of  opinion  became  freer  and  freer,  concerning  the  finan 
cial  condition  of  the  church  and  its  causes  and  remedies. 
At  this  point  Miss  Metcalf  sauntered  in.  Times  and 
seasons  were  as  nothing  to  her.  She  created  her  own 
external  conditions ;  as  a  young  woman  she  had  not 
been  able  to  do  this.  Nature  had  given  her  large  black 
eyes  but  a  rather  shapeless  face ;  so  that  from  girlhood 
she  had  become  used  to  the  experience  —  so  unwelcome 
to  a  woman  —  of  seeing  men's  eyes  resting  coolly  upon 
her,  with  never  a  sign  of  admiration,  with  mere  recogni 
tion  of  her  occupancy  of  space.  But  Nature  had  another 
card  yet  to  play,  and  played  it  when  Miss  Metcalf  was 
over  forty  ;  for  then  her  dark,  coarse  hair  turned  rapidly 
white,  and,  being  abundant,  was  combed  and  coiled  into 
dignity  and  grandeur  by  its  owner's  skilful  hands ;  and 
men  now  saw  that  she  was  beautiful ;  and  the  black  eyes 
below  the  snowy  terraces  played  like  batteries  intrenched 
in  winter  quarters. 


38  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

So  Miss  Metcalf  had  great  power  in  the  parish,  and 
whenever  she  spoke,  quietly,  almost  timidly,  —  knowing 
well  that  woman's  greatest  strength  is  her  apparent 
weakness,  —  all  listened,  men  and  women.  Therefore 
it  was  an  absolute  necessity  that  a  full  account  of  pro 
ceedings  should  be  submitted  to  her ;  and,  after  this  was 
done,  conversation  turned  naturally  into  a  plain  discus 
sion  of  the  causes  which  made  the  fair  a  necessity.  At 
first  there  was  some  caution  shown,  in  the  various  opin 
ions  that  were  given  ;  but  soon  most  of  the  women  threw 
off  all  reserve,  and  "the  axe  was  laid"  boldly,  at  what 
they  considered  the  "root  of  the  tree."  Said  one  thin- 
faced  woman  —  whose  husband  made  a  great  deal  of 
money  from  bad  mortgages  and  promptly  transferred 
it  all  to  his  wife  —  said  she,  severely :  "  For  one,  I  think 
Mr.  Freeman's  salary  might  have  been  cut  down,  the 
first  thing.  I  believe  in  cutting  your  garment  according 
to  your  cloth  ;  and  if  we  hain't  got  the  money,  why,  we 
hain't.  And  I  guess  if  he  wa'n't  so  lofty  about  taking 
money  from  funerals,  and  if  he  would  condescend  "  (with 
great  scorn) "to  accept  reg'lar  minister's  discount  at  the 
stores,  like  other  ministers,  he  would  have  plenty  to  live 
on,  and  not  go  without  butter  on  his  bread  either." 

There  was  only  one  person  present  who  could  under 
stand,  in  the  slightest  degree,  the  high  motives,  the  sen 
sitive  repugnance  in  Mr.  Freeman's  nature,  which  was 
the  sole  explanation  of  his  thus  condemned  conduct. 

That  person  was  Mrs.  Adeline  Guthrie,  a  woman  of 
perhaps  twenty-four  or  five,  the  widow  of  the  late  Rev. 
Jared  Guthrie,  D.D.,  who  had  been  a  learned  member 
of  learned  linguistic  societies,  and  had  died  six  months 
before,  leaving  his  extremely  youthful  widow  —  formerly 
his  ward  —  with  a  comfortable  property  in  real  estate 
and  government  bonds.  As  you  looked  at  the  graceful, 
rounded  figure,  and  piquant,  oval  face  of  said  Mrs.  Guth- 


POWERS   BEHIND   THE   THRONE  39 

rie,  you  might  find  it  difficult  to  see  in  her  the  typical 
"  bereft  widow  "  ;  but  her  black  serge  gown  was  in  evi 
dence,  likewise  her  close-fitting  black  bonnet,  with  its 
white  ruche,  and  long,  funereal  black  veil  falling  down  the 
back.  The  very  unexpectedness  of  finding  so  fresh  and 
youthful  a  face  inside  this  sombre  head-dress  brought 
out  the  large,  black  eyes  and  the  pink  tints  in  the  round 
cheeks  most  charmingly.  There  was  a  cameo-like  effect, 
and  a  quiet  air  of  poise  and  distinction,  which  always 
brought  her  into  notice.  Besides,  there  was  hardly  a 
trace  of  suffering  discoverable  in  the  features,  but  rather 
a  touch  of  mischief  in  the  eyes,  and  a  resolute  self-reliant 
quality  about  the  mouth  and  chin,  which  bewildered  and 
fascinated.  Mrs.  Guthrie's  relations  to  her  dry-as-dust 
old  guardian  and  husband  had  been  meagre  —  just  how 
meagre  the  curious  world  never  knew ;  enough  that  he 
had  cared  for  her  faithfully  after  his  old  college  friend, 
her  father,  had  died  and  left  him  this  charge.  And  she, 
in  turn,  as  wife,  had  repaid  his  care,  with  gratitude,  and 
had  ministered  to  him  tenderly  in  his  last  illness. 

However,  Mrs.  Adeline  Guthrie,  widow,  was  now  free, 
yet  with  a  freedom  which  had  limitations.  She  was 
legally  and  socially  a  widow,  but  she  had  hardly  known 
what  young  maidenhood  was  like ;  from  a  prolonged 
and  simple  uneventful  childhood,  she  had  now  come 
forth  suddenly  into  the  atmosphere  of  adult  life ;  and  she 
met  that  life  and  its  demands  with  a  little  unconscious 
protest  of  heart.  She  longed  to  enter  upon  its  fetes  and 
gayeties,  as  a  fresh  young  girl  who  had  never  known 
their  joys  or  their  disappointments ;  but  she  was  no 
longer  a  "young  girl " ;  so  the  world  said  to  her  in  vari 
ous  ways  —  said  it  as  sternly  as  the  world  can  say  any 
thing  to  a  pretty,  attractive  young  woman. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  knew,  partly  by  experience,  and  more  by 
hearsay,  the  aspirations  and  the  disappointments  of  the 


40  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

life  clerical.  She  was  aware  of  the  best  of  a  minister's 
experience,  and  the  worst  of  it.  She  had  kept  her  nim 
ble  tongue  under  bridle  for  several  years,  and  now 
considerably  enjoyed  the  independence  of  her  position. 
She  was  often  called  "  odd,"  but  her  clear  mind  and  her 
fearless  heart  gave  her  a  unique  position  in  the  church. 
People  seemed  to  allow  her  far  more  latitude,  in  dress 
and  manners  and  speech,  than  was  accorded  to  any  one 
else ;  if  she  overstepped  any  of  the  unwritten  laws  of 
her  provincial  surroundings,  people  smiled  and  said, 
"  Oh,  it's  Mrs.  Guthrie,  you  know."  And  yet,  under 
their  outer  manner  of  apparent  indulgence  toward  per 
sonal  idiosyncrasies,  there  lurked  a  timid  suspicion  that 
perhaps  Mrs.  Guthrie  —  who  had  "  travelled  abroad  "  and 
had  seen  more  of  the  world  than  had  any  of  them  —  had 
some  higher  authority,  to  them  unknown,  for  her  varia 
tions  from  their  standards. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  might  then  and  there  have  made  exposi 
tion,  intelligently  and  impartially,  of  Mr.  Freeman's  high 
motives  for  his  apparent  disregard  of  dollars  and  cents ; 
but  she  knew  her  audience,  and  knew  that  her  words 
would  be  wasted.  There  are  ears  that  cannot  hear ; 
the  mammon-worshipper  can  understand  only  the  speech 
that  has  a  metallic  ring  in  it.  So  Mrs.  Guthrie's  black 
eyes  snapped,  and  the  pink  in  her  round  cheeks  deep 
ened,  but  her  sensitive  face  remained  immovable. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  began  an  elderly  woman  in  gold 
spectacles,  speaking  with  a  thick  utterance  and  a  torpid 
deliberation,  "that  our  pastor  has  failed  to  draw  good 
audiences,  largely  because  the  people  can't  hear  him. 
What  good  does  it  do  to  get  ready  a  good  sermon,  if  a 
preacher  can't  make  himself  heard  ?  Now,  if  somebody 
would  tell  Mr.  Freeman  to  shave  off  his  mustache,  it 
would  be  a  real  kindness  ;  I  think  — 

"  Why   don't    you    tell    him    yourself  ? "    suggested 


POWERS   BEHIND   THE   THRONE  41 

Mrs.  Guthrie,  in  a  clear,  ringing,  cheerful  voice,  but 
with  mischief  lurking  in  her  eyes. 

The  elderly  woman  stammered.  She  was  slow  in 
thought  as  in  speech.  "I  —  I  have  almost  said  as 
much  to  him ;  that  is,  I  have  told  him,  repeatedly,  that 
the  people  at  the  back  of  the  church  couldn't  hear  him." 

"  I  can  hear  him,"  said  Mrs.  Guthrie,  "  and  I  sit 
two  pews  behind  you." 

The  elderly  woman  subsided,  not  from  a  sense  of 
dialectic  defeat,  but  from  mental  shock.  The  fact  was 
—  as  Mrs.  Guthrie  knew  —  that  the  worthy  creature  was 
growing  deaf,  but  was  quite  unaware  of  it.  The  spirited 
young  widow  happened  to  know,  also,  that  on  one  of 
the  occasions  when  the  elderly  woman  had  complained 
to  the  minister,  he  had  mildly  suggested  her  taking  a 
pew  nearer  the  pulpit  —  a  suggestion  which  was  received 
with  surprise  and  even  horror ;  for  all  her  family  tradi 
tions  regarding  Emmanuel  Church  twined  around  that 
old  pew,  and  attendance  in  any  other  pew  would  have 
been  unbearable  to  her.  So  Mr.  Freeman  had  added, 
soothingly,  that  he  would  try  to  speak  a  little  louder ; 
and  he  really  did  so;  but  he  resolutely  refused  to  shout 
his  sermon  at  those  and  other  deaf  ears,  being  aware,  as 
is  every  public  speaker,  that  by  doing  so  he  must  use 
harsh  tones,  which  would  inevitably  weary  and  wound 
the  ears  of  the  average  listener. 

"  For  my  part,  I  think  our  minister  ain't  loyal  enough 
to  our  denomination;"  declared  another  woman,  in 
quavering  voice,  shrinking  behind  Miss  Metcalf,  as  she 
spoke.  "  He  actually  told  me,  a  week  ago,  that  he 
thought  it  might  sometime  be  advisable  to  combine 
Emmanuel  Church  with  All  Saints  Church.  Now  I  call 
that  not  only  lukewarm  but  disloyal."  One  or  two  bon 
nets  nodded  approvingly,  and  nobody  replied  in  words. 
Again  Mrs.  Guthrie  could  have  made  fitting  answer, 


42  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

had  she  chosen.  She  would  have  so  chosen,  six  months 
before ;  but  now  she  saw  that  nothing  was  to  be  gained 
for  Mr.  Freeman  —  loyal  as  she  was  to  him  —  by 
logical  discussion.  She  was  fully  aware  that  two  of  the 
very  women,  who  nodded  their  heads  in  approval  of  this 
speech  of  condemnation,  had  been  enthusiastic  about 
the  sermon  of  their  pastor's,  a  month  before,  upon  the 
text,  "  One  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism."  In  that  ser 
mon  Mr.  Freeman  had  portrayed  —  not  eloquently,  but 
clearly  and  earnestly  —  the  advantages,  economic  and 
moral  and  spiritual,  of  a  greater  unity  of  the  branches 
of  the  Christian  church.  He  had  dealt  with  the  theme 
in  a  general  way,  and  these  people  had  approved  ;  but 
later,  when  he  uttered  one  word  which  looked  like  giving 
up  Emmanuel  Church,  they  drew  back  in  consternation 
and  protest.  Like  most  members  of  Christian  sects, 
they  believed  in  a  kind  of  "Christian  unity"  which 
would  bring  other  churches  into  their  fold ;  but  any 
suggestion  of  the  reverse  process  was  promptly  dubbed 
"  disloyalty."  Yet  it  must  be  conceded  that  there  was  a 
commendable  element  in  this  attitude  ;  Mr.  Freeman  knew 
that.  He  understood  and  valued  the  emotion  of  constancy 
and  local  fidelity  which  underlay  it ;  he  simply  regretted 
the  narrow  range  of  ecclesiastical  sympathy  which  made 
the  smaller  loyalty  unable  to  merge  itself  in  the  larger. 

Thus  the  conversation  went  on,  in  a  desultory 
fashion.  Another  woman  thought  Mr.  Freeman  was 
"stuck  up";  he  had  passed  her,  twice,  on  the  street, 
when  she  had  just  "  run  out "  to  the  store,  in  her  house 
dress,  and  he  had  not  spoken  to  her.  This  peevish  re 
mark  made  Mrs.  Guthrie's  lip  curl  with  scorn,  knowing 
as  she  did  the  broad,  simple,  unspoiled  nature  of  her 
rather  absent-minded  minister.  Then  one  woman  ven 
tured  to  say  that  not  so  many  people  had  "  united  with 
the  church  "  during  the  past  few  months  as  formerly. 


POWERS   BEHIND   THE   THRONE  43 

But  another  woman  here  added  that  although  there  was 
a  smaller  total,  the  number  of  men  had  been  greater. 
This  was  undeniably  an  agreeable  fact,  but  was 
received  with  reluctant  silence  and  with  no  attempt  to 
explain  it,  significant  as  it  was,  with  reference  to  the 
wholesome,  manly  quality  of  Freeman. 

Thus  far  Miss  Metcalf  had  not  spoken ;  nor  did  she 
now.  If  she  had  openly  added  any  counts  to  the  indict 
ment  being  brought  against  Mr.  Freeman,  they  would 
not  have  been  her  real  grounds  of  enmity.  The  real 
reason  why  she  was  not  a  warm  supporter  of  her  pastor 
was  that  he  did  not  give  her  that  deference  which  she 
demanded.  He  did  not  recognize  any  social  superiority 
on  her  part,  and  refused  to  become  her  satellite,  or  the 
tool  of  any  faction.  Therefore,  Miss  Metcalf  was 
quietly  resolved  that  Mr.  Freeman  should  not  occupy 
the  pulpit  of  Emmanuel  Church  any  longer  than  was 
demanded  by  dignity  and  decency. 

However,  she  was  too  good  a  tactician  to  let  her  hand 
appear  openly  in  the  removal.  Instead,  she  quietly 
worked  through  the  masculine  forces  of  the  parish. 
She  cultivated  Mr.  Blaney !  She  lingered  long  in  con 
versation  with  Dr.  Mixer,  over  his  counter,  as  she 
visited  his  store  to  inquire  about  patent  medicine  which 
she  cared  nothing  for,  and  to  buy  pills  which  she  would 
never  use.  Everywhere  she  dropped  sentences,  or 
questions,  or  exclamations  of  surprise,  which  seemed 
innocent  enough  on  the  outside,  but  carried  venom, 
concealed,  for  Mr.  Freeman.  The  fair  gave  her  excep 
tionally  good  occasions  for  this  course  of  conduct ; 
because  it  brought  her  into  contact  with  many  people 
whom  she  ordinarily  would  not  have  met.  And  while, 
apparently,  she  was  simply  an  earnest  worker  in  the 
rebuilding  of  the  walls  of  Zion,  she  was  really  the  arch- 
conspirator  against  the  captain  of  the  citadel. 


CHAPTER   IV 

DANCING  (AND  DINING)  TO  THE  LORD 

"  The  show  is  not  the  show, 
But  they  that  go, 
Menagerie  to  me 
My  neighbor  be." 

—  EMILY  DICKINSON. 

CERTAIN  of  the  Christian  poets  and  preachers  have 
had  something  to  say  about  the  sacredness  of  even  the 
most  menial  tasks ;  and  they  have  insisted  that  he  who 
shod  a  horse,  in  the  right  spirit,  or  she  who  swept  a  room, 
with  devout  purpose,  was  engaging  in  prayer  and  wor 
ship.  This  interpretation  of  religious  principles  may 
have  some  basis  of  reason,  so  far  as  acts  of  work  and 
duty  are  concerned  ;  but  when  the  theory  is  pushed 
over  into  the  field  of  play  and  pleasure,  there  arises  a 
serious  distrust  of  its  soundness.  Nevertheless,  it  is  often 
pushed  into  that  field,  and  if  the  lessons  of  certain  ex 
travagances  in  ancient  history  could  be  forgotten,  and 
this  theory  of  pious  pleasuring  be  judged  by  its  financial 
results  solely,  there  would  be  much  to  commend  it. 

However,  a  modern  church,  of  the  commercial  type 
which  I  am  portraying,  when  struggling  in  competi 
tion  with  other  churches  and  social  clubs,  can  hardly  be 
expected  to  give  much  time  to  ancient  history ;  and 
many  a  modern  minister  has  little  time  to  review  the 
gross  excesses  of  those  earlier  Protestant  sects,  which 
ran  into  such  riotous  sensual  indulgence,  in  the  name  of 
religious  freedom  and  under  the  supposed  sanction  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  Therefore,  it  comes  about,  alas,  that  a 

44 


DANCING    (AND   DINING)    TO  THE   LORD     45 

church,  which  will  cast  its  approving  mantle  of  re 
spectability  over  almost  any  kind  of  amusement  and 
entertainment,  can  gain  added  patronage  for  that  form 
of  pleasure  seeking,  and  enlarge  its  income  in  a  very 
appreciable  degree.  Thus,  developing  more  and  more, 
through  several  years,  Emmanuel  Church  each  year 
held  a  "  Festival,"  so  called,  which  comprised  a  large 
and  varied  assortment  of  shows  and  sales,  into  whose 
service  every  possible  member  of  the  society  was 
drafted.  The  fair  now  in  process  of  growth  was 
merged  in  this  annual  "  Festival,"  the  date  being  al 
tered  to  accommodate  the  desired  change ;  and  the  usual 
methods  of  procedure  went  gayly  forward.  Everybody 
was  boldly  "  solicited  "  for  contributions  of  food,  fancy 
articles,  decorations,  novelties  in  dress,  and  money. 

Mr.  Freeman  had  passed  through  this  Saturnalia 
before,  and  his  refined  nature  rebelled  at  its  gross  ap 
peals  to  the  lower  motives  of  human  hearts.  He  loathed 
the  part  which  he  was  expected  to  take  in  it;  he  re 
sented  the  reading  from  the  pulpit  of  long  advertise 
ments  of  its  needs  and  aims.  These  "  notices  "  were 
usually  written  out  by  the  fertile  Mr.  Blaney,  and 
abounded  in  eloquent  appeals  for  turkey,  and  ham, 
and  pickles,  preserves,  and  similar  necessaries  of  life. 
The  reading  of  these  notices,  Sunday  after  Sunday, 
seemed  to  the  minister  like  a  profanation  of  the  pulpit. 
They  called  upon  all  "faithful  workers  in  the  cause  "  to 
"stand  firmly  at  their  posts,"  and  to  "  rally  about  their 
various  chairmen  of  committees,"  and  to  "  make  a  grand 
success  of  this  great  effort." 

This  annual  orgy  reversed,  for  a  time,  the  regular 
order  of  church  precedent  and  parochial  dignity.  Many 
of  the  people  who  were  always  most  faithful  in  their 
attendance  at  public  service,  and  gave  strongest  support 
by  their  presence  and  sympathy,  were  temporarily  set 


46  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

aside ;  and  people  came  to  the  front  who  rarely  were 
seen  inside  the  church  doors,  and  individuals  took  on  a 
brief  but  unquestioned  authority,  who  hardly  knew  the 
minister  by  sight.  Out  of  hidden  corners  of  the  parish 
they  arose  —  being  summoned  by  the  administrative 
genius  of  Miss  Metcalf  and  Dr.  Mixer  —  and  put  into 
the  enterprise  the  same  commercial  spirit  and  methods 
that  make  successful  a  department  store. 

This  annual  "  Festival  "  also  resembled  the  Roman 
Saturnalia  in  one  marked  respect ;  namely,  that  it  was 
expected  to  obliterate,  for  the  time,  all  the  usual  social 
distinctions  and  bonds  of  caste.  Here  Miss  Metcalf's 
skilful  hand  achieved  its  finest  results ;  she  knew  all  the 
strata  of  the  parish,  and  well  understood  how  to  arrange 
the  committees  so  that  claimants  for  social  recognition 
should  be  encouraged,  — though  not  wholly  satisfied,  — 
and  the  possessors  of  society  prestige  should  be  made 
useful  in  holding  subordinates  to  the  more  unpleasant 
duties.  Certain  artful  combinations  of  "  family "  and 
"  beauty"  with  "wealth"  were  made  for  the  flower  booth 
—  that  position  being  the  very  acme  of  honor  in  the  fes 
tival.  Then,  too,  the  kitchen  work  was  cleverly  put  in 
charge  of  a  "  social  leader,"  who  did  little  except  enroll 
a  large  and  efficient  corps  of  aids,  and  then  bustle  about 
with  a  note-book,  and  with  a  very  dainty  apron  which 
was  worth  at  least  five  dollars,  and  came  through  the 
festival  (as  twice  before)  like  the  garments  of  the  Three 
Worthies  through  the  fiery  furnace,  "without  smell  of 
fire  "  —  or  food  —  "  upon  it." 

Yes;  quick,  watchful,  calculating,  determined  Miss 
Metcalf  did  indeed  show  great  skill  in  combining  her 
forces  effectively.  She  showed  herself  possessed  of 
a  keen  knowledge  of  "compatibles,"  as  the  pharmacists 
say,  which  was  worthy  of  admiration.  She  smiled  on 
women  whom  she  had  coolly  ignored,  throughout  the  year, 


DANCING    (AND    DINING)    TO   THE   LORD      47 
j. 

and  she  flattered  men  whose  horse-laughs  and  bar-room 
manners  almost  nauseated  her.  Even  the  children  were 
expected  to  do  their  part  in  this  great  festival ;  and  Miss 
Metcalf  invited  them,  —  by  delicately  perfumed  notes 
to  their  mothers,  —  and  then  calmly  saw  them  drilled 
in  complicated  dances,  at  great  cost  to  their  poor  little 
nerves,  through  long  and  late  hours  when  they  should 
have  been  in  bed  and  asleep.  Not  even  Bonaparte, 
conscripting  among  younger  and  ever  younger  ages  of 
the  empire's  male  subjects,  was  more  remorseless  than 
this  pale,  snow-crowned  spinster  of  uncertain  age. 

There  were  several  features  of  the  festival  which 
Mr.  Freeman  especially  regretted.  One  of  these  was 
the  soliciting  of  advertisements  for  the  Mayflower,  a 
little  pamphlet-publication,  edited  and  managed  by  Mr. 
Blaney.  In  this  field  of  fugitive  literature  the  prolific 
mind  of  this  gentleman  found  great  freedom  and  joy 
of  expression.  He  did  not  ply  the  scissors  as  vigor 
ously  as  editors  of  such  sheets  are  accustomed  to  do, 
but  he  drew  on  his  own  fertile  brain.  And  if  only  he 
had  possessed  the  power  of  selection,  and  could  have 
controlled  his  vanity  enough  to  discard  poorer  material 
and  use  the  better  kinds,  he  would  have  produced  a 
very  creditable  little  pamphlet;  but  he  printed  every 
thing  that  would  run  off  from  his  pen.  His  enthroned 
judgment  had  not  the  courage  to  "  decline  with  thanks  " 
any  skit,  however  feeble,  which  his  airy  fancy  offered ; 
and  the  result  was  that  rather  clever  bits  of  satire  stood, 
ashamed,  beside  maudlin  "personals"  and  "local  hits  "  ; 
and  a  quatrain  of  really  smooth  verse  jostled  against 
some  crude,  coarse  witticism.  Of  course,  the  May 
flower  was  not  to  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  festival 
air ;  it  was  by  no  means  its  own  excuse  for  being.  It 
was  expected  to  add  materially  to  the  receipts  from  the 
festival ;  and  this  it  did  by  means  of  its  advertisements. 


48  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

•< 

A  half  dozen  of  the  most  attractive  young  girls  of  the 
society  were  appointed  "  a  committee  to  solicit  adver 
tisements  " ;  and  forth  they  went,  through  the  offices 
and  shops  of  the  city,  asking  proprietors  of  all  kinds  of 
business  to  take  space  in  the  advertising  pages  of  the 
Mayflower.  In  most  cases  they  were  treated  civilly ; 
but  here  and  there  they  were  received  with  rude  rebuffs, 
and  occasionally  they  met  glances  and  greetings  which 
were  free  and  familiar,  and  even  more  and  worse  than 
this,  —  if  they,  dear,  innocent  children,  had  really  known 
what  it  all  meant. 

Mr.  Freeman  was  aware  of  this  mode  of  gaining 
money,  and  was  very  uneasy  about  it ;  but,  in  view  of 
his  impending  retirement  from  his  pastorate,  he  deemed 
it  best  to  say  nothing.  One  day,  however,  Mr.  Blaney 
stopped  him  on  the  street,  and,  with  his  habitual  tact 
less  jocularity,  which  always  irritated  a  delicate  nature 
like  the  minister's,  he  extracted  a  note-book  from  his 
pocket  and  invited  Mr.  Freeman  to  "  see  and  assure 
himself  of  the  sources  of  his  next  month's  salary." 
Then  he  exhibited  a  list  of  the  "  ads "  which  were 
already  arranged  for;  and,  as  Mr.  Freeman  ran  his  eye 
over  the  list, — being  somewhat  puzzled  at  Mr.  Blaney's 
conduct  in  submitting  them  to  him,  —  he  suddenly  saw 
an  explanation  of  the  thing,  in  one  of  the  names  on  the 
list.  It  was  the  name  of  a  restaurant-keeper  whose 
place  of  business  was  of  a  very  shady  character ;  the 
place  had  been  raided  twice  for  liquors,  and  there  were 
supper  rooms  connected  with  the  house  which  had  long 
held  an  unsavory  notoriety.  Mr.  Freeman  knew  Mr. 
Blaney's  cunning  ways,  and  knew  at  once  that  the  un 
scrupulous  editor  of  the  Mayflower  aimed  at  gaining 
his  approval  of  the  list  in  general  and  of  this  disreputable 
advertisement  in  particular.  Therefore  he  paused  and 
deliberated ;  and  as  they  thus  stood  together,  Mr.  Pidge 


DANCING    (AND   DINING)    TO  THE   LORD     49 

came  up,  walking  with  those  short,  mincing  paces  which 
such  small  natures  often  find  suited  to  their  petty  mental 
processes. 

Mr.  Freeman  was  reluctant  to  oppose  the  acceptance 
of  the  advertisement,  but  he  knew  that  if  he  did  not, 
he  would  be  openly  and  triumphantly  quoted  by  Mr. 
Blaney  as  having  approved  its  admission.  So  he  asked 
if  it  seemed  best  to  Mr.  Blaney  to  allow  that  name  to 
appear  in  the  Mayflower. 

Mr.  Blaney  was  shrewd  enough  to  try  and  throw  the 
burden  of  proof  on  his  minister ;  and  his  face  took  on  a 
bewildered  expression,  as  he  asked,  with  assumed  inno 
cence :  "Why  not?  Why  could  there  be  any  objection 
to  the  name  ?  Wasn't  the  man's  money  as  good  as 
anybody's  ?  "  And  then  a  wicked  little  gleam  came 
into  his  eyes.  "  Surely  the  society  needs  every  cent  it 
can  make ;  we  have  run  behind  dreadfully  this  year." 

That  was  one  of  the  man's  merciless  thrusts.  He 
enjoyed  giving  them ;  but  Mr.  Freeman  was  fairly  well 
seasoned  to  them,  and,  almost  in  calmness,  he  stood 
and  conjectured  how  a  man  who  had  himself  suffered 
as  much  pain  as  had  Mr.  Blaney,  at  the  cruel  hands  of 
his  fellows,  could  so  invariably  use  every  opportunity 
to  give  similar  pains  and  pangs  to  another.  But  Mr. 
Blaney  was  both  sensitive  and  malignant ;  he  had  that 
same  reptile  temperament  which  makes  the  Kaffir,  in 
battle,  when  wounded  and  suffering,  crawl  over  to  a 
still  more  seriously  wounded  enemy,  and  weakly  and 
feverishly  stab  him  to  death. 

Mr.  Freeman  knew  his  man  thoroughly,  and  knew 
poor,  soulless,  little  Mr.  Pidge,  who  stood  a  rather  un 
willing  witness  of  the  interview.  So  he  hastily  revolved 
the  problem,  and  in  a  moment  had  taken  his  resolution. 
"  I  think  I  would  not  accept  that  restaurant  advertise 
ment,"  said  he,  firmly  and  unflinchingly,  "because  the 


50  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

owner  does  not  enjoy  a  very  wholesome  reputation  in 
town.  Personally,  I  know  nothing  against  him ;  but 
everybody  agrees  that  the  place  is  not  one  where  — " 

Mr.  Blaney  interrupted  him.  He  saw  that  the 
minister's  judgment  was  decidedly  against  accepting 
the  advertisement,  and  he  was  angry,  yet  pleased ; 
angry  at  losing  that  amount  of  money,  and  pleased  to 
be  able  to  snarl  as  he  now  did,  closing  his  book  and 
turning  to  Mr.  Pidge.  "  Well,  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
being  too  good  to  live ;  Heaven  keep  me  from  setting 
myself  up  as  a  judge  of  my  neighbors.  The  good 
book  tells  us  about  a  man  who  went  up  into  the  temple 
to  pray,  and  thanked  the  Lord  that  he  was  not  as 
other  men  were."  A  sardonic  smile  played  over  his 
mean  face,  and  he  turned  again  to  Mr.  Freeman  and 
added,  "  Isn't  that  the  scripture  of  it,  pastor?  " 

It  was  all  very  insulting,  and  showed  the  extremely 
strained  relations  into  which  the  minister  had  now  come 
with  at  least  this  one  of  his  parishioners.  Mr.  Freeman, 
deep  in  his  heart,  for  one  brief  moment,  would  have 
given  all  he  had  in  the  world  to  strike  the  man  to  the 
ground,  and  grind  him,  serpent  that  he  was,  under  his 
heel ;  but  the  throe  of  passion  was  quickly  conquered. 
There  was  only  a  quick  flash  in  the  gray  eyes  and  a 
reddening  of  the  white  scar  on  the  temple,  and  then  he 
bowed  coldly,  and,  without  reply,  left  the  two  men 
standing  alone. 

"  Good,  wasn't  it  ? "  chuckled  Mr.  Blaney,  who  had 
divined  the  intensity  of  wrath  which  he  had  so  success 
fully  aroused. 

But  Mr.  Pidge  remarked,  nervously,  as  they  moved 
slowly  away  :  "  Our  pastor  doesn't  seem  to  be  very 
lib'ral,  now,  does  he  ?  We  was  told  when  he  come, 
that  he  was  lib'ral  and  progressive  ;  but  he  don't  act 
like  it.  Now,  what's  the  good,  I  say,  of  settin'  up  to 


DANCING    (AND   DINING)    TO   THE   LORD      51 

be  lib'ral,  and  talkin'  lib'ral,  and  then  not  keepin'  up 
to  it ;  that's  what  I  say."  And  Mr.  Pidge  continued 
to  say  it,  in  one  form  or  another,  for  several  minutes, 
until  at  last  the  two  parted  at  the  corner  of  the  street. 

This  catchword  of  "liberal,"  or  "illiberal,"  was 
frequently  on  the  lips  of  Mr.  Freeman's  parishioners, 
especially  at  such  times  as  this  of  the  festival ;  there 
were  so  many  questions  of  good  taste  as  well  as  of 
morality,  wherein  the  minister's  sense  was  finer  than 
that  of  most  of  his  flock,  that  many  little  collisions 
occurred. 

There  was  the  ever-recurring  question  of  lotteries ; 
in  one  or  another  disguise  it  came  up  repeatedly. 
"Guesses"  and  "chances"  and  "shows" — whatever 
the  name — Mr.  Freeman  was  quick  and  sincere  enough 
to  see  the  reality  of  the  gambling  element  underneath  ; 
and  he  was  considered,  by  even  the  best  of  his  flock, 
to  be  "a  little  narrow  "  on  this  point. 

Again  he  found  himself  utterly  out  of  touch  with 
many  of  the  methods  of  trade  which  were  popular  at 
the  festival.  One  of  the  devices  which  was  productive 
of  revenue  was  the  "  looking  backward  party,"  held 
one  evening,  where  everybody  came,  dressed  in  gar 
ments  which  were  put  on  "wrong  side  before."  The 
effect  was  grotesque  indeed  ;  the  attendance  was  large, 
but  Mr.  Freeman's  soul  revolted  at  taking  part  in  such 
vulgar  extravagances.  And  when  he,  at  times,  reflected 
upon  the  pious  coloring  which  was  thrown  over  all  this 
buffoonery,  because  the  receipts  were  to  go  into  the 
church  treasury,  he  wondered  that  the  very  stones  did 
not  cry  out  in  protest. 

The  feature  of  this  festival  which  brought  out  the 
full  resources  of  the  society,  numerically  and  socially, 
was  the  "  fancy  dress  banquet."  No  smaller  word  than 
"  banquet "  would  express  it.  It  was  not  called  a  "din- 


5  2  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

ner"  or  a  "  supper."  So  insignificant  a  name  as  either 
of  those  might  do  for  a  group  of  college  presidents, 
meeting  and  eating  together,  or  for  our  Ambassador 
to  Great  Britain,  entertaining  a  company  of  diplomats ; 
but  for  a  New  England  town,  and  for  the  famous  fes 
tival,  only  the  word  "  banquet "  was  adequate.  So  the 
"fancy  dress  banquet"  was  planned,  and  was  pushed 
to  a  successful  termination.  A  hall  was  hired,  and  the 
entire  parish  was  distributed  and  assigned  to  the  vari 
ous  duties  of  cooking  and  serving  food.  The  affair  was 
expected  to  furnish  much  merriment,  and  it  did.  Men 
and  women,  of  all  ages  and  conditions,  arrayed  them 
selves  in  cooks'  garb  and  waiters'  aprons ;  and  amid 
much  horse-play  served  the  multitude  of  townspeople 
who  flocked  in.  The  attendance  was  large,  and,  to  the 
uninitiated,  might  have  seemed  to  indicate  great  good- 
fellowship  among  the  various  churches  ;  but,  on  closer 
scrutiny,  it  would  be  found  that  the  usual  law  of  reci 
procity,  which  rules  on  most  of  the  levels  of  society, 
ruled  here  also ;  for  careful  note  was  silently  made  by 
many  acute  "  members  "  as  to  who  came  and  who  did 
not.  And  a  large  part  of  the  attendance  was  tacitly 
taken  as  payment  for  the  attendance  of  Emmanuel 
Church  members  on  various  parties  and  sales  and  festi 
vals  held  by  other  churches  in  the  past. 

Quite  apart  from  this  balancing  of  social  debts,  and 
beyond  the  really  adequate  gustatory  reasons  for  at 
tending  the  "banquet,"  there  was  a  moderate  return 
to  be  had  for  one's  money,  in  the  absurd  sights  which 
there  presented  themselves.  If  Mr.  Freeman  could 
have  looked  upon  the  scene  impartially,  impersonally, 
with  no  sense  of  responsibility  for  the  coarseness  of  the 
situation,  he  would  have  found  much  to  amuse  him. 
There  was  Dr.  Mixer,  his  rotund  form  enveloped  in  a 
vast  apron,  his  shirt-sleeves  rolled  up,  trying  to  cook 


DANCING    (AND   DINING)    TO  THE   LORD      53 

some  oysters  over  a  range  in  the  corner ;  and  there 
was  Mr.  Marshall,  his  honest  face  beaming  with  gen 
uine  delight,  acting  as  waiter,  with  a  woman's  hat  tied 
over  his  left  ear.  Mrs.  Marshall,  however,  was  too 
mindful  of  appearances  to  trust  herself  in  an  unbecom 
ing  garb,  and  appeared  as  a  shepherdess,  with  a  toy 
sheep  under  her  arm  and  a  gilded  crook  in  her  hand,  — 
properties  which  made  her  somewhat  inefficient,  save 
for  decorative  purposes. 

Taken  all  together,  there  was  a  flavor  about  the  affair 
which  savored  humorously  of  an  exhibition  of  trained 
animals.  There  were  obese  elephantine  figures,  and 
attenuated  giraffe-like  figures ;  and  such  men  as  Mr. 
Blaney  and  Mr.  Pidge,  when  fully  arrayed,  and  skipping 
gayly  about,  might  serve  well  as  suggestions  of  perform 
ing  poodles.  The  especially  unpleasant  element  in  the 
affair  was  that  several  of  the  people  came,  in  a  body,  to 
Mr.  Freeman  and  asked  him  to  take  tickets  and  make 
change  at  the  entrance  of  the  hall ;  but  he  resolutely 
declined.  And  this  was  understood  to  be  only  another 
sign  of  his  "illiberality."  All  sense  of  dignity  and 
propriety  seemed  for  the  time  laid  aside  by  a  majority 
of  the  parish  —  at  least  by  those  who  had  now  arisen 
into  temporary  control  of  affairs.  Mr.  Freeman  noted, 
however,  with  some  satisfaction,  that,  temporarily  ex 
cited  as  they  were  by  the  large  receipts  which  were 
coming  in,  they  could  still  halt  at  one  extreme  measure 
proposed  by  Mr.  Blaney.  This  prolific  individual  had 
a  sudden  inspiration,  or  recollection  of  some  previous 
festival  or  bazaar,  and  proposed  that  a  curtain  be  ar 
ranged  at  one  end  of  the  hall,  with  a  hole  through  it, 
and  some  of  the  "young  ladies"  stand  hidden  behind 
it;  then  "the  young  gentlemen"  were  to  be  allowed 
to  guess  whose  hand  was  thrust  through  the  hole,  as 
said  young  ladies  in  turn  did  this  ;  each  young  "  gentle- 


54 

man "  was  to  pay  a  dime  for  guessing,  and  if  correct 
in  his  guess,  was  to  kiss  the  owner  of  the  hand. 

It  was  simple  enough,  as  Mr.  Blaney  explained  it,  and 
gross  and  vulgar  enough,  as  Mr.  Freeman  listened  to  the 
explanation  ;  and  the  minister  was  glad,  from  the  bottom 
of  his  heart,  when  two  or  three  mothers,  whose  daughters 
were  likely  to  be  involved  in  this  indiscriminate  orgy, 
rather  summarily  objected.  So  the  promising  plan  was 
given  up,  and  Mr.  Blaney  turned  his  inventive  mind  to 
other  ends. 

Mr.  Freeman  wandered  about  from  table  to  table,  and 
among  the  seats  and  the  booths,  buying  some  trinket  in 
one  place  and  chatting  with  a  friend  in  another  place. 
His  soul  was  much  disturbed ;  he  was  glad  that  his  wife 
had  been  detained  at  home,  even  though  by  a  bad  attack 
of  influenza.  He  felt  more  or  less  ashamed  of  certain 
of  his  parishioners,  as  he  encountered  the  members  of 
other  churches,  and  was  regretful  of  the  emptiness  of 
the  Emmanuel  Church  treasury,  which  was  used  as  an 
excuse  for  such  barbarous  methods  of  raising  money. 
Occasionally,  however,  it  occurred  to  him  that  most  of 
these  visiting  folk  would  be  engaged  in  similar  enter 
prises  in  their  own  churches  before  the  year  was  out, 
and  even  now  were  probably  observant  of  any  "  novel 
ties  "  which  might  be  turned  to  good  account  when  their 
time  came. 

Mr.  Marshall,  between  whom  and  his  minister  there 
existed  a  peculiar  yet  very  real  sympathy,  joined  Mr. 
Freeman,  after  the  evening's  round  of  excitement  was 
over,  and  together  they  walked  home.  With  a  feeling 
of  great  relief  the  harassed  clergyman  came  out  into 
the  open  air;  and  he  quickly  noted  in  himself  —  for 
he  was  very  self-analytical  —  an  added  sense  of  relief, 
in  the  companionship  of  the  great-hearted  though  mea 
grely  educated  man  who  walked  beside  him.  There 


DANCING    (AND   DINING)    TO   THE   LORD      55 

was  something  large  and  warm  about  Mr.  Marshall's 
nature,  which  rested  and  comforted  so  sensitive  and 
intense  a  person  as  the  minister.  There  were  not  a 
half  dozen  points  of  intellectual  sympathy  between 
them.  The  sturdy  mill-owner  had  read  little  or  noth 
ing  about  Roman  or  Greek  history,  and  knew  nothing 
about  Adam  Smith  or  Karl  Marx,  and  had  never  heard 
of  Venetian  and  Florentine  schools  of  painting ;  but  he 
read  his  daily  newspaper  regularly,  and  had  his  own 
views  on  most  of  the  practical  questions  of  the  day. 
Then,  underneath  all  this,  there  was  that  indefinable 
quality  or  substratum  which  we  call  "  largeness  of 
nature."  There  was  nothing  petty  about  him ;  he  was 
incapable  of  a  mean  act.  Even  in  his  mill  management, 
where  minute  attention  to  details  counted  for  so  much, 
he  disregarded  these  details  more  than  did  most  mana 
gers,  and  made  up  for  this  disregard  by  his  ceaseless 
energy  and  his  sympathy  for  his  workpeople,  who 
worked  under  him  with  such  genuine  loyalty  and  love 
that  his  mill  turned  out  more  rolls  of  cloth  per  day  than 
any  mill  in  all  that  region. 

This  kind  of  elemental,  objective  nature  was  temper 
amentally  suited  to  the  minister  and  his  almost  mor 
bidly  sensitive  nerves ;  and  he  felt  the  comfort  of  the 
man's  presence,  even  though  no  word  passed  between 
them.  Mr.  Marshall,  with  a  natural  tact  which  many 
a  society  belle  might  have  justly  envied,  said  nothing  for 
several  moments,  then  casually  remarked,  in  his  deep, 
rich  voice :  "  Do  you  think  the  President  will  veto  that 
appropriation  bill  for  rivers  and  harbors  ?  I  see  that 
the  Western  papers  are  after  him  with  a  sharp  stick." 

Mr.  Freeman  instantly  recognized  the  other's  kind 
wish  to  divert  him  from  his  depressing  line  of  thought, 
and  his  heart  gave  a  quick  leap  of  gratitude.  Neither 
of  them  cared,  at  that  moment,  for  appropriation  bills 


56  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

or  Western  newspapers ;  but  Mr.  Marshall  knew  where 
the  minister's  thought  centred,  and  he  tried  to  dis 
tract  him.  He  knew  how  this  cultivated,  earnest-souled 
preacher  loathed  the  antics  of  the  festival  from  which 
they  had  just  emerged.  He  did  not,  himself,  loathe 
them  —  he  rather  enjoyed  them;  but,  together  with 
this  untrained  quality  of  his  own  nature,  he  had  a  deli 
cate  understanding  of  natures  quite  unlike  his  own, 
and  could  give  his  minister  more  real  sympathy  and 
solace  than  could  any  other  member  of  the  parish. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  speak  of  such  matters,"  said 
Mr.  Freeman,  gently  laying  his  hand,  for  a  moment,  on 
the  other's  arm,  "but  I  was  thinking  of  something  else." 

Mr.  Marshall  knew  well  what  he  was  thinking  about, 
but  did  not  say  so  ;  he  merely  emitted  a  subdued  "Yes," 
and  waited  for  the  minister  to  continue. 

"  I  was  reflecting,"  said  the  minister,  "  on  the  un 
happy  necessity  which  so  many  churches  seem  to  be 
under,  of  resorting  to  all  kinds  of  devices  in  order  to  pay 
their  bills.  Very  many  churches  have  greatly  shifted 
from  the  old-time  Puritan  standards  of  administration, 
as  well  as  from  the  ancient  standards  of  doctrine.  It 
seems  to  me,  sometimes,  as  if  it  were  better  that  a  reli 
gious  society  should  sink  out  of  existence  than  preserve 
its  financial  position  by  an  undue  emphasis  of  the  lighter 
and  more  meretricious  phases  of  social  life.  It  ought 
to  be  more  than  a  club ;  it  ought  to  develop  moral  and 
spiritual  force,  within  itself,  and  give  of  this  force  to  the 
world ;  but,  instead,  by  far  the  largest  part  of  its  strength 
is  used  in  acquiring  the  money  to  pay  its  own  bills.  It  is 
like  a  machine,  which  is  so  crudely  constructed  that  it 
uses  all  the  power  transmitted  to  it  from  the  engine,  or 
the  workman's  foot  or  hand,  in  overcoming  its  own 
friction,  and  barely  succeeds  in  keeping  in  motion,  with 
out  turning  out  any  work." 


DANCING    (AND    DINING)    TO   THE   LORD      57 

Mr.  Marshall  saw  the  force  of  the  illustration,  and 
saw,  too,  the  truthfulness  of  his  minister's  application  of 
it.  He  saw  it,  but  did  not  feel  it  as  keenly,  as  personally  ; 
and  perhaps  the  greatest  defect  which  he  had,  in  his 
honest,  generous  nature,  was  that  excessive  love  of  peace 
and  good  will  which  sometimes  leads  a  man  to  put  off 
a  duty,  or  makes  him  refuse  to  face  an  unpleasant  fact. 
He  meant  to  do  the  right  thing  always,  himself,  and  he 
tried  to  think  that  other  people  had  the  same  good  in 
tention  ;  but,  alas,  they  did  not ;  and  in  any  joint  action, 
like  raising  money  or  serving  on  a  committee,  he  was 
always  allowed  to  do  much  more  than  his  part ;  yet,  at 
the  same  time,  his  frank,  kind,  sympathetic  way,  expect 
ant  as  it  was  of  other  people's  best  thoughts  and  deeds, 
did  actually  call  out  from  them  much  more  generous 
conduct  than  they  gave  to  anybody  else. 

"  People  are  queer  about  church  matters,"  remarked 
Mr.  Marshall,  presently,  pulling  away  at  his  thick  black 
beard  and  chuckling  as  he  spoke.  "  They  act  sorter 
different  about  paying  their  dues  for  religion,  from  what 
they  do  in  paying  for  clubs  and  concerts  and  clothes." 

He  paused,  never  being  given  to  much  continuous 
speech,  but,  as  his  hearer  said  nothing,  he  went  on : 
"  I've  been  on  the  Financial  Committee  some  three  years 
now,  and  I've  seen  some  funny  things; — beats  the 
circus." 

Again  he  paused.  He  was  evidently  amused  at  his 
own  recollections,  but  was  shy,  as  always,  of  forcing 
himself  on  an  unwilling  listener.  Still,  as  Mr.  Freeman 
evidently  did  not  wish  to  speak,  he  slowly  continued: 
"There  was  that  man  Purnell;  gone  to  live  in  Boston 
now.  He  was  a  case.  When  we  decided,  — the  com 
mittee,  —  a  year  ago,  to  bring  up  all  the  pew-rentals  to 
their  proper  level,  we  had  fun.  You  see,  years  ago 
every  pew  was  appraised  by  a  committee,  and  a  proper 


58  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

rental  set  on  it ;  but  of  late  years  the  treasurer  got  into 
the  way  of  letting  people  have  a  few  pews  at  a  some 
what  lower  price,  if  they  said  they  couldn't  pay  the  ap 
praised  value.  Well,  we  rearranged  the  matter,  and  sent 
circulars  to  all  the  families  in  the  parish,  explaining 
about  it ;  and  such  a  row  as  some  of  'em  raised !  " 

Mr.  Marshall  seemed  to  really  enjoy  the  memory  of 
it ;  never  a  word  did  he  say  about  the  vast  quantity  of 
oil  he  had  poured  on  the  troubled  waters,  not  a  word  as 
to  the  seven  destitute  families  whose  pews  he  was  even 
now  retaining  for  them  by  quietly  paying  the  difference 
between  the  old  lapsed  price  and  the  new  price.  He 
simply  chuckled,  and  stuffed  his  black  beard  into  his 
mouth  as  if  bent  on  self-strangulation.  And  his  hearty 
good  nature  was  so  infectious  that  the  troubled  clergy 
man  felt  his  tense  nerves  relax  a  little,  and  a  sigh 
escaped  his  lips. 

"What  happened?"  he  inquired,  thus  breaking 
through  his  usual  adverse  attitude  toward  parish  gos 
sip,  in  view  of  his  impending  resignation. 

"Well,  the  worst  case  was  that  Purnell.  He  sent  a  let 
ter  to  our  Chairman,  and  threatened  to  give  up  his  seat ; 
said  it  was  outrageous  to  change  the  prices  of  pews  —  a 
breach  of  faith,  and  all  that ;  and  he  let  into  Dr.  Mixer 
one  clay  in  the  store,  so  I'm  told,  in  good  style.  I'd 
like  to  have  seen  it."  And  again  he  broke  into  a  sub 
dued  laugh. 

"  Did  he  give  it  up  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Freeman,  only 
mildly  interested  in  the  financial  phase  of  the  matter. 

"  Well,  in  one  way  he  did ;  and  in  another  way  he 
didn't,"  responded  Mr.  Marshall  "  You  see,  when 
the  letter  was  read  at  our  committee  meeting,  and 
Dr.  Mixer  gave  us  a  hint  or  two  about  Purnell's  inter 
view  with  him  at  the  store,  there  was  some  uneasiness 
for  a  few  moments ;  of  course  the  committee  didn't 


DANCING    (AND    DINING)    TO   THE   LORD      59 

want  to  lose  a  rental,  but  they  thought  they  ought  to 
stand  by  their  previous  decision;  when,  just  ?-.s  we 
waited,  the  treasurer,  Pidge,  after  glancing  ov£-  his 
books,  gave  a  sort  of  snicker  and  squeaked  out : 
'You  won't  lose  much,  gentlemen,  if  he  does  give  up 
his  pew.  He  hasn't  paid  a  cent's  rental  on  it  since 
he  come  into  the  society,  and  I  have  mailed  him  due- 
bills  every  quarter.'  " 

"  I  am  surprised,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Freeman,  his  sur 
prise  lifting  him  for  the  moment  quite  out  of  his  de 
pression  of  spirits.  "  I  supposed  that  Mr.  Purnell  was 
more  of  a  man  than  that.  I  have  often  noticed  him 
and  his  wife  and  three  children,  seating  themselves  in 
that  pew  with  what  seemed  to  me  a  justifiable  sense 
of  ownership.  It  really  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see 
an  entire  family  so  regularly  at  church.  And  now 
you  spoil  it  all"  —  he  smiled  as  he  spoke  —  "by  telling 
me  this  unpleasant  fact  about  them.  I  don't  see  how  a 
man  can  do  such  a  thing  as  that." 

"  I  know  you  don't  see  how,"  assented  his  companion, 
cheerfully  but  firmly  ;  "  yet  the  world  is  full  of  that  kind. 
I  see  more  of  that  side  of  life  than  you  do.  Our  treas 
urer  has  come  up  against  some  hard  facts  in  his  life, 
too,  and  he  wasn't  much  surprised.  Mixer  was,  though. 
Mixer  was  totally  taken  in  by  the  man's  high  air. 
And  we  had  a  good  laugh  at  him  when  the  treasurer 
finished." 

The  sturdy  mill-owner  laughed  again,  as  he  recalled 
the  scene ;  Mr.  Freeman,  despite  his  depression,  joined 
in  the  laugh.  He  knew,  in  general,  the  type  of  person 
depicted :  the  person  who  does  the  least  for  a  church, 
yet  demands  the  most  of  its  minister,  and  is  loudest  in 
his  criticism  and  condemnation.  Moreover,  the  incident 
narrated  gave  him  a  grain  of  comfort  in  another  way  ; 
he  felt  a  certain  relief  from  the  grinding  anxiety  about 


60  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

financial  shortages,  as  he  sav/  Mr.  Marshall  —  on  whom 
the  burden  rested  more  than  on  anybody  else  —  saw  him 
treat  the  matter  so  casually  and  carelessly.  This  was 
really  the  clever  kindly  purpose  which  Mr.  Marshall  had 
in  mind  in  telling  his  story ;  but  the  minister  did  not 
know  it,  and  knew  only  that  the  big,  strong-nerved 
man  beside  him  gave  him  great  comfort.  After  a  short 
pause  Mr.  Freeman  decided  to  speak  plainly  to  his 
companion,  about  his  proposed  resignation ;  and  in  a 
few  quiet  words  he  did  so. 

It  was  with  real  regret  that  Mr.  Marshall  now  heard, 
from  his  pastor's  lips,  a  confirmation  of  the  rumor 
which  had  been  circulating  of  late  through  the  parish. 
He  knew  that  any  attempt  to  change  Mr.  Freeman's 
purpose  would  be  vain.  He  had  measured  and  tested 
the  minister's  character,  on  several  occasions,  and  he 
knew  what  unyielding  fibre  there  was  within.  As  to  his 
peculiar  ways  about  church  customs  and  proprieties, 
the  bluff  mill-owner  could  not  quite  understand  him ; 
yet,  even  though  he  could  not,  there  was  a  delicate 
sense  hidden  under  his  own  offhand  manners,  which 
made  him  vaguely  respect  and  even  admire  the  re 
pression  and  sensitiveness  of  the  more  finely  trained 
minister. 

"  Sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,"  he  replied,  when 
Freeman  had  finished.  "  You  have  done  me  a  mon 
strous  sight  of  good,  sometimes,  when  you  might  not 
have  thought  it."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "A,nd  my  son 
Ned  jest  swears  by  you,  he  does ;  that  is  to  say,  he 
don't  swear,  you  know,  at  least  I  hope  he  don't,  but 
he  takes  what  you  say,  as  law  and  gospel." 

This  was  an  utter  surprise  to  Freeman,  and  was  as 
grateful  to  his  soul  as  cool  water  to  thirsty  lips.  Ned 
was  a  young  fellow  of  seventeen,  whom  Mr.  Freeman 
had  not  specially  noticed,  but  had  talked  with  him  on 


DANCING    (AND   DINING)    TO   THE   LORD      61 

several  occasions,  and  evidently  he  had  met  some  real 
need  in  the  young  nature. 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  such  feeling  on  his  part,"  said  Mr. 
Freeman,  simply  and  unaffectedly.  "  I  had  even  thought, 
at  times,  that  he  held  himself  aloof  from  me." 

"  Far  from  it !  "  returned  Mr.  Marshall.  "  And  my 
daughter,  Olive,  feels  just  the  same  as  Ned.  They  often 
discuss  your  sermons,  after  we  go  home  from  church ; 
and  Olive  is  a  pretty  sharp  hand  at  an  argument,  too. 
I  wish  you  could  —  I  wish  —  well,  I — "  The  speaker 
stumbled  and  ahemmed,  and  plainly  had  meant  to  say 
something  more,  but  checked  himself,  and  began  some 
talk  about  a  railroad  accident  which  had  recently 
occurred.  The  slight  curiosity  which  Mr.  Freeman 
felt  as  to  the  other's  sudden  change  of  topic  was  not 
gratified.  The  truth  was  that  the  kind-hearted  mill- 
owner  had  seen  that  it  involved  an  unpleasant  side, 
and  had  steered  away.  What  he  intended  to  say  was 
something  like  this :  "  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her 
silence  Mr.  Blaney,  a  week  or  two  ago,  when  that  per 
son  was  finding  fault  with  the  sermons.  She  told  him 
that  they  were  too  refined,  in  their  simplicity  of  expres 
sion,  for  many  persons  in  the  congregation,  and  that 
they  dealt  with  a  kind  of  life  and  conduct  which  was 
too  high  and  too  spiritual  for  the  perceptions  of  many 
who  criticised  them." 

Mr.  Marshall  saw,  at  the  moment  when  he  started  on 
this  bit  of  amusing  reminiscence,  that  it  implied  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  parish  fault-finding ;  and  he  knew  that 
Mr.  Freeman  would  be  more  disturbed  by  that  element 
in  the  episode  than  by  its  amusing  features  ;  so  he  had 
turned  away  from  it,  impulsively  and  not  very  skilfully. 

However,  that  was  precisely  what  the  spirited  and 
somewhat  headstrong  young  girl  had  told  the  voluble 
gentleman,  and  her  father  was  not  wholly  displeased 


62  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

with  her  action.  So  far  as  he,  her  father,  could  trust 
his  own  judgment,  Mr.  Blaney  possessed  a  marvellous 
"  gift  of  language."  That  his  daughter  did  not  share 
even  this  admiration  was  no  anxiety  to  him ;  he  allowed 
her  to  form  her  own  opinions. 

The  walk  and  conversation  of  the  two  friends  ter 
minated  naturally,  when  Mr.  Freeman's  house  was 
reached.  Mr.  Marshall  had  insisted  on  walking  with 
him  to  this  point.  At  parting  Mr.  Marshall  said,  in 
the  halting  way  which  always  fettered  him  when  he 
felt  most  deeply  :  "  I  shall  be,  myself,  very  sorry  indeed 
to  have  you  leave  us.  You  have  been  doing  a  grand 
work  among  our  young  people;  and  as  for  the  older 
ones  —  well,  nobody  can  teach  old  dogs  new  tricks. 
However,  I'm  sorry  you  feel  about  going  as  you  do." 

He  spoke  truly,  and  would  have  gone  very  deeply 
into  his  pocket  to  make  up  deficits,  if  the  man  whom 
his  two  children  so  respected  would  have  remained  ;  but 
Mr.  Freeman  took  his  big,  rough  hand  in  both  his  own, 
as  they  stood  at  the  gate,  and  said  :  "  I  thank  you,  my 
dear  friend ;  you  are  a  true  friend.  A  minister  often 
knows  but  little  who  his  friends  really  are ;  but  I  know 
and  respect  you,  and  you  have  helped  me  greatly  in 
my  work,  and  have  often  kept  me  from  losing  faith 
in  human  nature.  Good  night,  good  night,  Mr.  Mar 
shall  !  God  bless  you !  "  And  he  hurried  away  into 
the  house,  leaving  the  mill-owner  honestly  confused 
as  to  how  he  could  possibly  have  helped  his  minister, 
except  —  well  except,  perhaps,  in  the  slight  matter  of 
handing  over  a  few  needed  dollars  into  the  church 
treasury. 


CHAPTER   V 

FRIENDS    IN    COUNCIL 

"  And  though  I've  learned  some  souls  are  base, 
I  would  not  therefore  hate  the  race, 
I  still  would  bless  my  fellow-men 
And  trust  them,  though  deceived  again." 

A  WEEK  or  two  afterward,  Mr.  Freeman  sat,  one  fore 
noon,  in  his  study.  He  had  not  yet  sent  in  his  resigna 
tion,  but  he  had  written  it ;  he  had  prepared  one  copy, 
in  some  warmth  of  feeling,  and  then,  on  re-reading  it, 
had  frankly  recognized  the  bitterness  which  lay  beneath 
its  formal  phrases,  and  had  torn  it  up.  The  second 
draft,  made  more  calmly,  now  lay  open  on  his  desk 
before  him.  His  troubled  gaze  wandered  caressingly 
about  the  walls  of  his  study.  The  room  was  spacious 
and  well  lighted,  and  had  a  large  fireplace,  where 
burned,  in  the  winter  months,  a  companionable  and 
hospitable  log  fire.  Bookshelves,  well  filled,  extended 
across  three  sides  of  the  room.  A  stuffed  hawk-owl 
sat  solemnly  perched  on  a  stand,  high  over  the  door; 
it  reminded  its  owner  of  the  old  care-free  college  days. 
Over  the  fireplace  was  a  large  copy  of  Albert  Diirers 
"Praying  Hands."  The  minister  looked  long  and  ear 
nestly  at  them.  Thin,  worn,  beseeching  hands  —  reach 
ing  upward  like  a  Gothic  arch,  — they  had  many  a  time 
voiced  the  unspoken  prayers  of  his  heart,  in  moods  of 
soul-searching  meditation  ;  now  he  looked  at  them,  fixed 
and  steadfast  in  their  petitioning,  but  they  seemed  to 
be  wrapt  in  their  own  devotions,  and  to  be  unable  or 
unwilling  to  bear  his  wishes  and  pledges  heavenward. 

63 


64  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

Near  the  hands  was  a  photograph  of  Fra  Bartolo- 
meo's  painting  of  Savonarola.  Freeman  had  bought 
it  in  Florence.  Savonarola  had  been  a  fascinating  per 
sonality  to  him,  as  a  student,  and  he  had  dreamed — oh 
how  idly,  as  now  was  proved  —  of  emulating  the  pulpit 
power  of  the  famous  Prior  of  San  Marco.  That  was 
a  selfish,  ambitious  purpose,  now  justly  crushed  out. 
Preaching  was  the  very  element  in  his  ministry  in  which 
he  had  found  himself  most  lacking.  He  knew  now  that 
hard  work,  resolute  and  persistent  as  it  might  be,  would 
not  make  a  man  into  a  preacher ;  hard  work  could  make 
him  a  scholar,  but  not  an  impassioned,  eloquent  speaker. 
He  saw  it  all  clearly.  Temperament  was  lacking  to 
him.  His  wife,  first,  had  discovered  his  deficiency,  and 
she  had  waited  patiently  until  he  should  see  it,  himself, 
after  many  failures,  after  fierce  struggles ;  and  she  had 
boldly  declared  that  he  was  too  sincere  a  nature  to  be 
eloquent.  "  The  eloquent  speaker,"  she  had  affirmed, 
"  whether  preacher  or  lecturer  or  campaign  orator  — 
unless  he  sprang  into  being  in  a  great  crisis,  and  was 
upborne  on  the  wave  of  a  great  reform,  —  the  eloquent 
speaker  must  be  essentially  dramatic  in  temperament ; 
and  to  be  that,  a  man  must  be  lightly  grounded  in  his 
own  personal  purposes  and  principles,  and  be  easily 
transferable  to  any  mood  or  position  which  occasion 
might  suggest." 

Mrs.  Freeman  was  a  tall  woman,  of  rather  stately 
mien ;  she  walked  with  dignity,  and  her  thin  face,  with 
its  delicately  chiselled  features,  was  of  a  patrician  type, 
and  commanded  the  distant  respect  and  even  the  fear 
of  most  strangers,  until  they  had  learned  to  honor  the 
sweetness  and  sincerity  that  mingled  with  the  dignity, 
and  made  her  the  truest  of  friends. 

Lawrence  greatly  valued  her  judgment  on  most  mat 
ters,  and  consulted  her  in  all  his  affairs.  She  seemed 


FRIENDS  IN   COUNCIL  65 

a  little  rigid,  sometimes,  in  her  uncompromising  judg 
ments,  but  her  husband  knew  where  the  relaxing  mus 
cles  of  her  face  would  betray  themselves,  under  playful 
attack,  quite  as  a  boy  knows  where  the  ice  on  the  lake 
in  the  springtime  will  earliest  thaw,  and  will  hint  at 
summer's  warmth  and  jollity. 

There  she  sat,  his  ever  dear  and  sympathetic  wife, 
over  by  the  window,  enthroned  in  her  big  chair  —  /rrbig 
chair,  always  reserved  for  her  in  the  study  —  now  pre 
paring  a  paper  for  the  College  Club.  She  knew  a  great 
deal  about  many  things,  —  did  this  woman  of  firm,  deli 
cate  face  and  fearless  brown  eyes, — which  most  women 
care  little  to  investigate,  or  else  touch  lightly,  as  they 
quote  wise  phrases  dropped  from  masculine  lips.  So 
Rebecca  Freeman  had  been  a  strong  support  to  her 
husband  intellectually,  as  well  as  a  loving  and  loyal 
guardian  of  the  Lares  and  Penates.  He  valued  her 
opinion  of  his  sermons,  beyond  the  judgment  of  any  or 
ail  his  congregation.  Some  preachers  court  comment 
and  criticism  from  certain  members  of  their  parish  — 
usually  women-folk ;  that  is,  they  say  that  they  desire 
enlightenment  on  this  or  that  discourse  or  address, 
when  their  real  wish  is  for  praise ;  and  the  average 
woman  is  quick  to  detect  the  masculine  appeal  for  ap 
proving  words,  and  responds,  more  or  less  tactfully,  to 
the  demand.  But  Lawrence  Freeman  was  too  candidly 
self-analytical  to  be  betrayed  into  this  suppliant  attitude, 
and  was  too  sensitive  to  expose  himself  to  unnecessary 
disapproval.  His  wife  knew  well  his  high  ideals,  and 
knew  how  to  encourage  him  when  he  fell  below  them. 
She  was  not  only  his  wife,  legally  related  to  him,  but  she 
was  his  counsellor  and  confidant,- — she  was  his  friend, 
his  "  chum  "  ;  and  they  shared  everything  equally,  from 
dollars  to  ideas,  and,  hand  in  hand,  met  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  life.  With  all  the  apparently  close  relation- 


66  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

ships  into  which  an  earnest,  sympathetic  pastor  comes, 
there  is,  nevertheless,  in  his  experience,  much  isolation. 
Beneath  the  layer  of  official  ministration,  which  is  out 
side,  which  is  a  part  of  every  clergyman's  life,  however 
vigorously  he  may  disclaim  it,  there  is  the  man's  own 
personal  temperament,  where  his  fancies  and  foibles  find 
expression ;  and  into  this  inner  circle  it  is  not  permitted 
many  to  penetrate.  Many  of  the  greatest  preachers  in 
history  have  lived  in  entire  isolation,  and  their  inner 
most  defects  and  weaknesses  have  been  known  only  to 
God,  —  sometimes  not  known  to  the  man  himself ;  but 
that  preacher  is  most  fortunate,  who  has  one  human 
friend  whom  he  can  invite  into  the  inner  circle  of  his 
doubts  and  despondencies,  and  vanities  and  vagaries, 
and  yet  can  retain  that  friend's  respect  and  love. 

Thus  with  Lawrence  Freeman ;  the  tall,  straight,  self- 
reliant  woman  in  the  big  chair  knew  him  thoroughly, 
and  was  patient  with  his  failures  and  proud  of  his 
successes.  Often,  of  late,  she  had  silently  reflected 
that  a  clear,  strong  mind  like  his,  and  such  rare  tenacity 
of  will  and  purpose  as  his,  would  surely  have  carried  him 
to  the  front  rank  of  leadership  in  most  professions  or 
vocations.  In  the  law,  or  in  mercantile  life,  he  would 
have  fought  his  way  irresistibly  to  assured  success  ; 
Lawrence,  for  his  part,  knew  that  no  failure  could 
weaken  her  affection  for  him,  but  he  longed  to  deserve 
her  admiration ;  and  this  pastorate  over  Emmanuel 
Church  was  certainly  not  resulting  successfully  —  that 
is,  when  judged  by  that  commercial  standard  of  money, 
assets,  and  full  pews,  which  had  come  more  and  more 
to  the  front  in  that  religious  society. 

"Rebecca,"  said  the  discouraged  man,  presently,  "I 
have  written  out  my  letter  of  resignation."  And  he 
read  it  aloud,  calmly,  listlessly ;  and  she  paused  and 
listened.  Eager  as  she  was  in  many  of  her  own  pur- 


FRIENDS   IN    COUNCIL  67 

suits,  none  of  these  could  ever  restrain  her  from  giv 
ing  to  her  husband,  on  the  instant,  the  sympathy, 
intellective  or  emotional,  which  he  so  often  craved. 

He  waited  for  her  comments.  He  knew  that  she 
would  say  exactly  what  she  thought;  and  often  her 
speech,  in  his  presence  alone,  was  far  more  vigorous 
and  even  caustic  than  the  outside  world  heard  from  her 
lips.  "That  is  all  right,"  she  said.  "A  little  too  mild, 
my  dear,  perhaps ;  but,  on  the  whole,  it  is  wiser  to  lean 
that  way.  When  will  you  send  it  ?  Better  send  it  at 
once,  I  think.  We  have  talked  and  talked  the  matter 
over,  and  your  mind  will  be  easier  when  the  step  is  once 
taken.  It  isn't  such  a  bad  step,  either.  For  my  part, 
I  almost  wish  you  were  taking  leave  of  the  profession 
itself,  instead  of  resigning  simply  from  Emmanuel 
Church." 

This  was  a  point  which  they  had  frequently  dis 
cussed.  Mr.  Freeman,  however,  shook  his  head,  now  as 
always,  when  such  suggestions  were  made  by  his  wife. 
They  both  knew  that  he  could  easily  and  comfortably 
maintain  his  family  in  other  occupations.  His  work 
and  writings  in  sociology  and  political  economy  had 
brought  him  some  reputation,  and  a  college  professor 
ship  could  have  been  easily  his  if  he  had  desired  it; 
moreover,  his  wife  had  a  snug  little  income  of  her  own, 
which  precluded,  for  them  both,  any  danger  of  destitu 
tion.  But  he  felt  an  abounding  interest  in  his  profes 
sion,  and  knew  that  in  most  ways  he  was  fitted  for  it. 
The  higher  part  of  it  —  its  idealism,  its  tender  ministry, 
he  loved  as  strongly  as  ever ;  the  lower  parts,  where, 
in  so  many  churches,  the  qualities  of  a  commercial 
traveller  and  a  public  entertainer  are  in  demand  —  these 
things  he  loathed  and  hated. 

After  a  short  pause  Mrs.  Freeman  said :  "  Of  course 
I  appreciate  your  high  feeling  about  your  profession, 


68  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Lawrence.  At  the  same  time  you  must  remember  —  " 
here  her  rather  sincere  countenance  took  on  a  mis 
chievous  expression,  —  "  that  I  did  not  marry  the  Rev 
erend  Lawrence  Freeman  —  I  simply  married  you  ;  you 
know  I  never  heard  you  preach  until  after  we  were 
married." 

"No,  you  did  not,"  assented  her  husband;  and  he 
added,  grimly,  "  if  you  had,  you  wouldn't  have  married 
me." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  assented  his  wife,  smiling  enigmati 
cally.  Then  she  came  over  toward  him,  fun  giving 
place  to  tenderness,  in  her  face  and  voice. 

"  You  are  unreasonably  depressed  on  that  score,  my 
dear.  You  are  not  a  Bossuet  —  thank  goodness  you  are 
not  —  but  you  are  a  thoughtful  and  earnest  speaker. 
I  rarely  hear  you  preach  a  sermon  that  I  am  ashamed 
of ;  you  give  the  people  sound  counsel  and  instruction. 
Indeed,  the  weak  spot  is,  Lawrence,  that  you  are  more 
a  teacher  than  a  preacher ;  but  then,  dear,  how  about 
the  Great  Teacher  in  Galilee  ?  I  suspect  that  he  never 
pronounced  such  orations  as  did  the  Bishop  of  Meaux, 
or  uttered  such  long,  impassioned  appeals  as  did  the 
Prior  of  San  Marco ;  but  he  simply  taught,  and  so  do 
you.  The  disciple  must  not  be  above  his  master,  nor 
the  servant  above  his  Lord.  There,  now,  is  some  of 
his  teaching  for  you !  "  And  she  caressed  him  as  she 
spoke. 

"  True,  the  Master  said  that,"  admitted  Lawrence, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  despite  himself.  "  But  the 
'  multitude  heard  him  gladly,'  we  are  told  ;  and  that  is 
more  than  they  do  me."  And  he  took  his  wife's  hand 
gently  and  fondly  in  his  own,  and  smiled  up  at  her,  as 
she  stood  beside  him. 

"  To  be  sure,"  assented  she,  quickly  catching  and  en 
couraging  his  vein  of  fun.  "  Yet  we  are  not  told  how 


FRIENDS   IN    COUNCIL  69 

large  the  multitude  was ;  besides,  people  had  less  to 
occupy  them  in  those  days  than  now,  and  were  readier 
for  diversion  by  any  new  spectacle ;  there  wasn't 
so  much  competition,  I  fancy.  Then,  too  the  Great 
Teacher  stayed  only  a  brief  time  in  any  one  place ;  he 
was  continuously  moving  about  from  village  to  village." 

"  You  mean  that  his  pastorates  were  short  ones  ? " 
queried  Freeman,  with  grim  humor.  And  then  con 
tinued,  following  out  the  conceit.  "  Short  pastorates 
seem  to  be  the  best,  now,  as  then.  It  is  easy,  in  these 
days,  to  preach  interestingly  to  a  congregation,  for  a 
few  weeks  or  months  ;  the  novelty  of  voice  and  manner 
holds  through  that  length  of  time.  But  longer  than 
that  —  well,  that  is  another  problem.  Moreover,  I  have 
sometimes  wondered  whether  a  responsibility  for  pew- 
rentals  would  not  have  seriously  complicated  the  Mas 
ter's  work." 

Already  the  two  were  getting  the  better  of  the  minis 
ter's  despondency,  and  their  love,  so  deep  and  satisfying, 
was  driving  away  the  gloom,  And  presently,  after  a  few 
moments  of  that  silent,  deep  content  of  companionship, 
which  comes  in  all  true  marriages,  Lawrence  said,  quite 
casually,  "  I  shall  go  out  and  mail  my  letter  to  the  com 
mittee,  and  have  that  much  done." 

As  he  put  on  his  hat  and  started  toward  the  door,  the 
bell  rang.  Opening  it,  he  met  Mrs.  Fifield,  one  of  his 
parishioners,  and  invited  her  to  enter. 

Mrs.  Matilda  Fifield  —  or,  as  everybody  called  her, 
familiarly,  "Matilda" — was  a  stout,  red-faced  woman, 
with  large,  lustreless  eyes  and  a  very  voluble  tongue. 
She  had  been  deserted,  suddenly  and  silently,  by  her 
husband,  years  before,  after  a  married  life  of  one  year. 
People  said  that  the  poor  little  man  had  a  narrow  es 
cape  ;  that  he  did  wisely  to  go  as  he  did  ;  that  Matilda 
would  have  talked  him  to  death,  with  her  amiable  and 


7o  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

aimless  chatter,  if  he  had  not  thus  taken  his  departure. 
Her  tongue  moved  much  more  rapidly  than  did  her 
brain;  often  the  tongue  went  on  and  on,  after  she  had 
finished  one  idea  and  while  she  was  clumsily  casting 
about  for  another.  "  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  she  be 
gan,  giving  one  hand  to  Mr.  Freeman,  the  other  to  his 
wife.  "  I  am  afraid  you  were  going  out." 

"Yes,  I  —  was,"  answered  the  minister,  frankly  ;  and 
he  wished  that  he  had  started  five  minutes  earlier.  He 
did  not  welcome  her  very  cordially,  but  there  was  never 
any  need  of  very  great  delicacy,  in  dealing  with  Matilda  ; 
she  always  blundered  straight  on,  good-naturedly,  with 
out  seeming  to  need  much  sympathetic  attention. 

"  Yes,  I  am  glad  I  found  you  in,"  she  repeated,  and 
moved  over  to  a  chair  and  sat  down.  Of  course  there 
was  no  other  thing  to  do,  so  the  minister  also  sat  down, 
but  persistently  kept  his  hat  in  his  hand.  Mrs.  Free 
man  abruptly  broke  away,  saying  (though  Matilda, 
smiling  and  talking,  hardly  heard  her)  that  she  must  go 
upstairs  to  attend  to  some  duties. 

"  I'm  sure  I  shan't  keep  you  more  than  a  minute," 
said  Matilda,  loosening  her  jacket,  and  preparing  for  a 
long  interview.  "  I  just  came,  you  know,  to  tell  you 
that  I've  moved.  That  house  on  North  Street  wasn't 
at  all  convenient ;  and  I  like  this  one  much  better 
where  I  am  now." 

With  a  vain  hope  of  cutting  the  interview  short,  Mr. 
Freeman  took  out  his  note-book  and  said,  "  I  will  make 
a  memorandum  of  your  number  ;  you  —  " 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  wanted,"  said  Matilda,  volubly, 
and  smiling  in  her  thick,  bovine  way.  "  I  thought  that 
it  would  be  so  bad-  if  you  went  away  up  there  to  call, 
and  I  was  out." 

"Worse  things  might  happen,"  reflected  the  minis 
ter,  in  a  sadly  unpastoral  way.  Then  he  held  up  the 


FRIENDS  IN   COUNCIL  71 

note-book  conspicuously,  and  intimated,  pencil  in  hand, 
that  he  was  ready  to  record  the  street  and  number. 

But  no  such  luck ;  away  cantered  Matilda.  "  I 
know  I  shall  like  the  neighborhood  better,  too.  In  that 
other  place  the  neighbors  were  all  so  cold  and  unsocial. 
They  didn't  call  on  me  more  than  once  —  any  of  them ; 
and  I  did  my  best  to  be  social" 

The  minister  lowered  his  note-book  and  nodded  me 
chanically.  His  thoughts  began  to  wander.  At  times 
like  these  he  often  outlined  a  sermon  to  himself ;  but 
to-day  he  had  not  started  on  any  subject ;  —  evidently  the 
time  was  to  be  a  dead  loss.  He  roused  himself,  when 
there  was  a  slight  lull  in  the  stream  of  talk,  and  faintly 
hoped  for  the  end.  He  caught  her  closing  words  :  "  And 
I  told  them  I  couldn't ;  now  could  I,  Mr.  Freeman  ? 
Could  I,  possibly  ?  " 

He  had  not  the  slightest  idea  about  the  "  could  "  or 
the  "couldn't"  of  it;  but  he  thought  he  was  safe  in 
nodding  his  head  slowly  in  agreement  with  this  unheard 
decision  of  hers,  and  then  attempted  to  get  her  back  to 
the  subject  in  hand.  He  murmured,  gently  "  Very  true, 
very  true,  very  true."  And  having  thus,  as  he  hoped, 
got  his  innings,  he  raised  his  voice,  and  in  a  cheerful 
tone,  asked,  "  Now  as  to  your  change  of  —  " 

"Yes!  Exactly!"  interrupted  Matilda,  who  really 
had  forgotten  what  she  came  for,  and  was  somewhat  at 
a  loss  for  talking  material.  "  I  felt  that  you  ought  to  be 
informed  at  once ;  because,  you  know,  I  might  be  sud 
denly  ill,  and  then  I  would  want  to  see  you."  This 
mention  of  illness  threw  her  off  on  a  new  tack,  and 
she  started  :  "  There  is  a  great  deal  of  illness  about,  you 
know ;  I've  heard  of  ever  so  many  cases  during  the 
past  week,  and  I  took  a  little  bit  of  a  cold  last  Tuesday, 
and  I  hope  it  will  not  result  in  anything  serious.  My 
tendency  is  toward  rheumatic  affections,  you  know ;  and 


72  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

that  medicine  of  Dr.  Mixer's  costs  a  great  deal,  but  I  had 
to  buy  eleven  bottles  of  it  last  year.  Although  we  can't 
be  sure,  can  we,  when  we  buy  such  remedies,  that  we 
are  getting  our  money's  worth?  And  besides  that  — 

There  she  was,  off  on  the  fruitful  theme  of  her  ill 
health  and  "bad  feelings  "  ;  the  minister  knew  well  what 
endless  variations  there  were  in  that  theme,  and  he  grew 
desperate.  He  arose  and  asserted  himself.  "  Certainly  ! 
Yes!  Of  course!  Yes!  But  now  —  you  were  just 
about  to  tell  me  your  new  street  and  number —  " 

Matilda's  voice  was  not  strong,  and  she  was  silenced  — 
that  is,  acoustically  speaking  ;  but  she,  too,  arose  slowly, 
and  she  looked  at  him  in  a  most  aggrieved  way.  She 
could  not  have  shown  more  sense  of  personal  injury  if 
he  had  ordered  her  to  stop  talking,  or  told  her  she  was 
an  idle  gossip.  With  this  change  in  her  facial  expres 
sion,  Mr.  Freeman  felt  himself  forced  into  the  role  of 
"tyrannical  brute";  and,  somewhat  abashed,  he  mildly 
repeated  his  question,  and  raised  note-book  and  pencil. 

There  was  a  pause ;  then  Matilda,  as  if  on  the  point 
of  breaking  into  tears,  murmured  :  "  I  was  just  going  to 
tell  you,  Mr.  Freeman.  I  know  —  I  know  you  did  not 
mean  to  be  unsympathetic,  but  your  voice  fairly  fright 
ened  me;  and  — "  Here  her  own  voice  grew  broken, 
though  only  for  a  moment,  and  her  face  quickly  took  on 
its  usual  ruddy,  self-absorbed,  good-natured  content,  and 
Mr.  Freeman  sighed;  away  she  went,  on  another  long 
canter,  turning  into  every  lane  and  by-path  that  opened 
along  the  road.  Those  incessant  "  ands  "  of  hers  nearly 
drove  the  minister  frantic.  They  were,  grammatically 
considered,  connectives;  but,  in  Matilda's  mouth,  they 
connected  nothing  —  they  were  like  marks  for  breathing, 
which  a  vocalist  writes  into  a  song  —  they  gave  her  new 
force,  for  whatever  might  follow. 

Matters   looked   rather  depressing  for  the  minister ; 


FRIENDS  IN   COUNCIL  73 

but  at  this  point  Mrs.  Freeman  appeared.  There  was  a 
tension  about  her  firm  mouth  which  indicated  decision 
and  action.  Directly  that  she  entered,  although  her 
visitor  was  in  full  flight  of  reminiscence  about  modern 
household  heating  and  lighting  and  cooking,  she  said, 
in  a  high,  hard  tone,  which  cut  straight  through  Matilda's 
rather  mushy  tones  like  a  knife  through  cheese  :  "  I  am 
very  sorry,  Mrs.  Fifield,  but  Mr.  Freeman  was  just  on 
the  point  of  going  out.  Lawrence,  will  you  kindly  call 
at  the  grocer's,  on  the  way,  and  pay  this  bill?"  (hand 
ing  him  a  bill  —  resourceful  woman  !  —  which  she  had 
brought  down).  "  The  vegetables  which  were  ordered 
yesterday  have  not  come ;  you  might  also  remind  him  of 
that  fact." 

All  this  was  delivered  with  head  high  in  air,  the  lan 
guage  being  of  a  very  precise  and  elevated  character, 
and  quite  intelligible  to  her  husband.  He,  on  his  part, 
played  up  to  her  with  alacrity  ;  and,  with  a  hasty  bow  and 
a  word  to  the  somewhat  abashed  Matilda,  went  quickly 
toward  the  door.  As  he  went  out,  he  saw  his  wife's 
manner  soften  and  her  tones  become  more  natural,  as  she 
motioned  the  visitor  to  her  seat.  She  was  bent  on  doing 
two  things,  and  she  did  them  :  first  she  had  rescued  her 
bored  husband ;  and  second,  she  meant  to  placate  any 
resentment  which  might  have  been  aroused  in  Mrs. 
Fifield's  breast,  before  she  let  her  go ;  or,  rather,  before 
she  made  her  go.  She  intended,  now,  to  draw  down  on 
herself  and  endure  a  certain  amount  of  the  loquacious 
creature's  talk,  and  when  she  saw  a  fit  time,  she  would 
end  it.  Moreover,  there  was  a  half-conscious  purpose 
in  her  heart,  which  now  dictated  her  opening  pacifica 
tory  remarks.  "  One  of  Mr.  Freeman's  errands,  this 
morning,  you  will  doubtless  be  interested  in.  He  is 
posting  a  letter  to  the  parish  committee,  —  his  letter  of 
resignation." 


74  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Now  Matilda  was  easy  game.  No  key  to  cipher- 
writing  was  needed  for  an  interpretation  of  her  words 
and  inflections.  She  was  a  simple,  frank,  kind-hearted, 
rather  dull  creature,  active  in  a  plodding  way,  was  much 
laughed  at  behind  her  back,  and  would  have  been  also 
laughed  at  to  her  face  had  she  not,  —  happily  for 
her,  —  married  into  one  of  the  leading  families  of  the 
town.  That  saved  her  some  personal  confusion  and 
shame,  at  times,  and  warded  off  many  rebuffs.  As  soon 
as  Mrs.  Freeman  had  thrown  out  her  information,  she 
watched  her  visitor ;  and  she  immediately  knew,  by  the 
calm  way  in  which  the  excitable  woman  took  it,  that  it 
was  not  unexpected  —  evidently  the  subject  had  been 
generally  discussed  through  the  parish. 

"Well,  now,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Matilda, 
settling  back  comfortably  in  her  chair ;  and  the  honest 
soul  really  was  sorry. 

But  Mrs.  Freeman  was  bent  on  certain  investigations. 
So  she  threw  out  another  sentence.  The  first  one  had 
not  ignited  the  train  of  her  visitor's  combustibles ;  she 
hoped  this  one  would.  "Yes,  it  seems  best.  He  will 
preach  his  last  sermon  on  the  last  Sunday  of  the  month, 
and  then  Emmanuel  Church  will  be  able  to  look  for 
some  better  incumbent." 

This  was  efficacious  in  producing  the  desired  result. 
Matilda  burst  out :  "  Oh,  how  can  you  say  so  !  You  know 
we  shall  never  find  such  another  minister  as  dear  Mr. 
Freeman.  That  is  to  say  —  you  know  —  I  mean — • 
that  we  may  possibly  get  a  better  —  no,  I  don't  mean 
exactly  that ;  I  always  tell  folks  that  preaching  isn't 
anything  in  a  minister  —  I  always  tell  'em  that,  when  I 
hear  anybody  —  anybody  —  talking,  you  know.  Oh,  how 
many  times  I  have  stood  up  for  your  husband,  Mrs. 
Freeman  !  I  always  do." 

Mrs.  Freeman's  countenance  wore  an  expression  of 


FRIENDS  IN   COUNCIL  75 

mingled  annoyance  and  amusement.  She  was  getting 
precisely  what  she  had  tried  for ;  through  Matilda's 
clumsy  hodge-podge  of  sympathy  and  self -justification, 
the  minister's  wife  was  obtaining  a  fairly  good  statement 
of  the  real  attitude  of  the  parish  toward  her  husband. 
She  had  known  it  all,  in  a  general  way,  before ;  but  it 
amused  her  to  play  Matilda,  like  a  great  gaping  codfish 
on  a  strong  line,  and  she  would  take  her  off  the  hook 
when  the  fun  of  it  all  had  ceased.  "  You  have  a  kind 
heart,  Mrs.  Fifield,"  she  said,  pouring  on  a  drop  of  lubri 
cant,  to  start  the  wheels  again. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  say  that ! "  cried  Matilda,  who 
had  not  received  any  sort  of  compliment  for  many 
years.  Her  gratitude  for  the  easily  spoken  though  hon 
estly  spoken  words  quite  touched  Mrs.  Freeman's  own 
heart.  "  I  have  liked  Mr.  Freeman  better  than  any 
minister  since  Dr.  Larkin,"  continued  the  visitor,  feel 
ing  that  in  saying  this  she  was  conveying  the  very 
highest  praise  possible. 

Now  Dr.  Larkin,  —  peace  to  his  ashes  !  —  was  a 
minister  who  had  dwelt  in  the  town  when  Matilda  was 
about  twelve  years  old.  He  was  no  better  and  no  worse 
than  many  of  his  predecessors  and  successors ;  but  a 
little  study  of  parochial  history  and  biography  will  show 
any  curious  observer  that,  of  all  the  clergymen  with 
whom  any  given  person  has  ever  been  brought  into  con 
tact,  that  clergyman  will  be  most  idealized  and  even 
idolized  who  happened  to  come  into  relations  with  said 
person  at  the  impressible  period  between  ten  and  fif 
teen  years  of  age.  That  particular  pastor  will  be  found 
to  have  made  a  deeper  impression  —  as  a  devout  and 
eloquent  man  —  than  any  who  came  before  or  after 
him ;  and  will  be  used,  throughout  said  person's  life,  as 
the  standard  of  perfection  for  all  pastors  and  ministers. 

Thus  it  was  with  Matilda.      Dr.  Larkin   had  really 


76  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

been  a  pompous  and  somewhat  indolent  gentleman,  of 
sonorous  speech  and  benign  manner,  who  had  a  good 
stock  of  sermons,  and  could  read  them  with  consider 
able  effect.  Of  original  ideas  he  had  never  one,  and  as 
to  self-sacrifice,  he  carefully  avoided  it.  So  the  older 
generation  had  said ;  but  to  Matilda,  and  all  her  youth 
ful  generation,  the  white-haired  patriarchal  pastor  had 
embodied  all  the  wisdom  of  the  ages  and  most  of  the 
virtues  of  the  saints.  So  Matilda  was  really  striking 
her  highest  and  loudest  note  of  praise  of  Mr.  Freeman, 
in  speaking  as  she  did. 

"  Yes,"  she  bubbled  on,  like  a  fountain  of  mingled 
sweet  and  bitter,  "  and  I  was  so  mad  with  Miss  — 
well,  perhaps  I'd  better  not  call  any  names,"  she 
interjected,  blushing  proudly  with  a  sense  of  her  dis 
cretion.  "  But  enough  to  say  that  when  that  woman 
got  off  something  about  Mr.  Freeman's  always  making 
such  solemn  calls,  I  just  told  her  it  was  no  such  thing; 
and  that  other  people  didn't  think  so ;  and  I  had  the 
proof  right  at  my  tongue's  end.  I  recollected  what 
Miss  Henley  —  there!  I  didn't  mean  to  let  that  out  but 
—  now  that  'tis  out,  why  'tis.  Well,  I  told  her  that  Miss 
Henley  complained  of  just  the  opposite  thing ;  Miss 
Henley  told  —  there!  I  almost  said  that  right  out  — 
but  she  told  somebody,  who  told  me,  that  she  thought 
the  minister  talked  too  much  nonsense ;  at  least  he  did 
when  he  came  to  her  house.  So  you  see,  I  had  Miss  — 
Miss  —  wrell,  I  had  her,  right  there."  And  triumph, 
turgid  triumph,  bespread  her  great  round  red  face,  and 
she  beamed  On  her  hostess,  and  waited  for  another  word 
of  commendation. 

Mrs.  Freeman  murmured  a  word  or  two,  presumably 
of  approval  and  thanks,  but  took  care  not  to  divert 
Matilda  from  the  line  of  her  thought.  She  looked  upon 
her  visitor  as  an  experimenter  might  look  upon  a  mes- 


77 

meric  subject,  being  careful  to  soothe  and  encourage  her 
in  her  present  confidential  reminiscences.  Matilda  was 
assured  of  sympathy  in  her  efforts  to  defend  her  minis 
ter's  fair  fame,  and  brought  forth  sundry  other  pleasing 
and  enlightening  recollections.  "Yes,  I  always  have 
stood  up  for  Mr.  Freeman."  And  she  narrated  several 
other  aspersions  and  attacks,  which  she  evidently  felt  that 
she  had  repelled  by  the  vigor  of  her  tongue  and  her 
skill  in  dialectic.  The  narration  of  them  made  Mrs. 
Freeman  almost  writhe  with  anger,  they  revealed  such 
ingratitude  and  such  wilful  misunderstanding  of  a  clergy 
man's  highest  efforts ;  but  her  curiosity  and  sense  of 
humor  sustained  her,  and  kept  her  countenance  reason 
ably  responsive.  Finally,  when  she  could  bear  no  more, 
she  arose  and  broke  in  upon  a  choice  piece  of  gossip, 
which  had  evidently  been  bandied  freely  about  the  parish 
about  six  months  before ;  and,  putting  out  her  hand, 
thanked  her  visitor  for  the  pleasure  of  her  call,  and 
actually  led  her,  persistently,  toward  the  hall  and  front 
door.  This  point  reached,  she  opened  the  door,  mean 
time  bowing  and  talking,  and,  despite  Matilda's  surprise 
and  clumsy  manoeuvring,  had  her  speedily  outside,  and, 
in  another  moment,  had  the  door  shut.  This  done,  she 
gave  vent  to  a  hysterical  little  cry,  and  wandered  me 
chanically  into  the  parlor,  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  a 
chill  of  rage  as  much  as  of  pain  at  her  heart. 

"  Rebecca,"  spoke  a  familiar  voice.  She  looked  up,  in 
surprise,  and  her  husband  stood  before  her. 

"  Why  !  how  are  you  here  ?  "  she  broke  out. 

"  I  crept  in  through  the  back  door,"  he  replied,  with 
an  attempt  at  a  laugh.  "  I  suspected  what  you  were 
planning  to  do  with  that  poor,  dear,  dull  creature,  and 
I  hurried  back." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  she  was  saying  about  the  com 
ments  on  your  sermon  of  two  weeks  ago  ? " 


78  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

"  I  did,"  he  said  gravely.  "And  perhaps  they  were 
points  soundly  made.  McLean,  with  whom  I  exchanged 
pulpits  a  month  ago,  is  the  preacher  they  evidently  liked. 
What  was  his  subject  or  text?  Do  you  happen  to  recall 
either  of  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  preached  an  excellent  sermon,  I  must  admit, 
on—" 

"  The  Parable  of  the  Sower  ? "  suggested  her  husband, 
somewhat  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  that  was  it.  How  did  you  know  ?  I  purposely 
said  nothing  about  it  to  you." 

A  sad  smile  stole  over  Mr.  Freeman's  face,  as  he 
turned  away  and  sat  down.  "  I  guessed  correctly,  didn't 
I,  dear?  "  he  remarked;  "yet  not  by  any  preternatural 
power.  The  simple  fact  is  that  McLean  has  that  one 
sermon,  which  he  wrote,  years  ago,  in  the  Theological 
Seminary ;  and  he  has  doctored  it  up,  repeatedly,  since, 
until  it  abounds  in  sparkling  gems  of  thought  and  feel 
ing.  It  is  the  only  respectable  discourse  the  man  has, 
and  he  invariably  preaches  that  sermon,  at  a  first  hear 
ing  in  any  church.  He  was  in  the  school  when  I  was 
there.  All  the  men  of  that  year  knew  about  the  sermon  ; 
and  I  have  heard  that  two  or  three  of  them  have  taken 
a  wicked  delight  in  exchanging  with  him  a  second  time, 
speedily  after  the  first,  and  have  had  a  quiet  laugh  over 
the  sudden  fall  in  the  thermometer  of  opinion,  in  their 
congregations.  However,  my  dear,  I  must  not  become 
narrowed  and  imbittered.  And  I  will  not.  It  is  hard, 
though,  to  face  such  dismal,  discouraging  phases  of 
human  nature,  as  were  brought  out  by  your  clever  bait 
ing  of  that  clumsy-witted  creature." 

"  To  think  of  that  odious,  unctuous  man  Mixer 
demanding  more  '  spiritual '  sermons  !  "  moaned  Mrs. 
Freeman,  laughing,  yet  with  wet  eyes.  "  Could 
anything  possibly  be  more  absurd  ?  You  heard  Ma- 


FRIENDS   IN    COUNCIL  79 

tilda  let  that  pleasing  bit  of  information  out,  didn't 
you  ?  " 

"  I  heard  it,"  said  her  husband,  speaking  somewhat 
absently,  as  if  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  Then, 
after  a  moment  of  silence  in  the  room,  he  spoke  again, 
and  earnestly  and  sadly.  "  The  hardest  thing  the  woman 
said  was  that  about  the  Claverlys  ;  you  noticed  it  ?  " 

"Yes;  you  mean  that  —  that  —  well,  that  sneer  at 
your  having  mistaken  your  vocation  ;  no  real  call,  etc." 

She  could  hardly  bear  to  repeat  the  cruel  words ;  but 
he  and  she  both  had  heard  them,  and  Mr.  Freeman  re 
sumed,  in  a  low  and  repressed  voice  :  "  To  think  of  their 
saying  such  things,  or  thinking  such  things !  when  only 
a  year  ago  I  was  repeatedly  in  their  family,  giving  my 
counsel  and  my  sympathy  so  freely.  You  remember 
Mrs.  Claverly  was  very  ill ;  and  they  clung  to  me,  and 
entreated  me  to  come  every  day ;  and  I  gave  them,  in 
their  great  need,  my  heart's  best,  Rebecca.  I  cannot 
forget  certain  scenes  beneath  that  roof,  when  the  phy 
sicians  had  given  the  sick  woman  up,  and  those  anxious, 
despairing  people,  husband  and  daughters,  stood  with 
tears  in  their  eyes,  and  faces  convulsed  with  anguish, 
and  begged  and  almost  demanded  that  I  call  back  their 
loved  one  from  the  shadows  even  then  closing  about 
her.  And  we  knelt,  all  of  us ;  and  I  prayed  to  God, 
feeling  on  my  heart  the  full  weight  of  agony  which 
burdened  them.  I  hardly  know  how  that  scene  ended. 
They  wept  on  my  shoulders,  wrung  my  hands,  and 
thanked  me  with  sobs  and  moans." 

Mr.  Freeman's  voice  was  almost  inaudible,  as  he  fin 
ished.  He  rarely  spoke  so  freely,  even  to  his  wife, 
of  such  experiences ;  but  she  knew  that  he  had  a  deli 
cate  and  profound  sympathy,  at  such  times,  and  often 
had  she  received  him,  coming  home  from  such  experi 
ences,  utterly  exhausted.  "  Oh,  the  fickleness  of  weak 


8o  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

human  nature  !  "  she  murmured.  For  she  recollected 
that  the  sick  woman,  Mrs.  Claverly,  had  suddenly  begun 
to  recover,  was  now  a  well  woman,  and  evidently  was 
capable,  in  the  brief  space  of  one  year,  of  forgetting  all 
that  devotion  and  sympathy,  and  of  saying  such  mis 
chievous  and  cruel  words.  Moreover,  Mrs.  Freeman 
recollected,  in  addition,  that  one  of  the  daughters,  Bertha, 
had  applied  to  her  minister,  about  six  months  before, 
for  his  influence  and  intercession  with  the  school  com 
mittee,  in  securing  a  position  as  teacher  in  the  public 
schools. 

"  Did  Bertha  Claverly  get  that  appointment  to  the 
grammar  grade  ?  "  she  inquired  ;  "  you  talked  with  one 
or  two  of  the  committee,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes  !  "  responded  her  husband.  "  I  had 
quite  forgotten  that.  She  is  teaching  regularly  now." 

Neither  said  more.  The  same  sad  reflections  were  in 
both  their  minds ;  but  both  knew  that  no  good  was  to 
be  gained  by  dwelling  upon  such  discouraging  sides  of 
human  nature.  Mrs.  Freeman  was  the  first  to  rouse 
herself,  and  she  exclaimed  cheerily,  "  Well,  my  dear, 
did  you  mail  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  it's  done.  The  die  is  cast.  We  leave  it  all, 
in  a  month." 

"  Good,  good !  I  am  much  relieved ;  and  I  know 
that  you  will  be,  also.  I  wish  you  would  take  my 
advice  about  giving  up  the  profession,  entirely ;  but 
there,  I  know  you  won't." 

The  minister  smiled  tenderly  upon  her,  but  shook  his 
head  with  determination  ;  and  although  she  was  urging 
him  to  take  this  step,  she  loved  him  the  more,  and  the 
more  admired  him,  because  of  the  high  quality  in  him 
which  made  him  refuse  to  heed  her  advice.  "  I  shall 
not  repudiate  my  ordination  vows,"  he  said  solemnly, 
"  so  long  as  I  feel  that  there  is  any  possibility  of  my 


FRIENDS   IN    COUNCIL  81 

doing  good  work,  even  in  some  obscure  corner  of  the 
vineyard." 

"  One  of  your  most  serious  defects,  my  dear,"  said 
the  wife,  putting  her  arm  lovingly  about  his  neck,  "  is 
your  sensitiveness.  It  seems  a  strange  kind  of  defect 
in  a  clergyman,  I  admit ;  but  it  really  is  a  defect,  in 
these  days,  under  present  conditions.  I  have  noticed 
that  many  of  the  successful  ministers  —  if  I  may  be 
allowed,  my  dear  sir,  for  the  moment"  (with  a  kiss  on 
his  hand,  which  she  was  holding),  "  to  use  the  word 
'success'  in  its  worldly  sense  —  very  many  of  them 
are  men  of  great  physical  vigor,  rather  than  spiritual 
vitality ;  they  are  men  of  kindliness  of  manner,  and  of 
little  or  no  great  delicacy.  A  shy  minister  is  fore 
ordained  to  be  a  failure.  He  must  not  be  in  the  least 
encumbered,  socially  or  in  the  pulpit,  by  any  overdrawn 
feelings  of  delicacy.  He  must  put  out  his  hand  to  men 
with  boldness,  and  put  up  his  voice  to  his  Maker,  loudly 
and  even  familiarly.  Anything  less  than  the  most  out 
spoken,  unreserved  boldness  and  self-confidence,  toward 
both  man  and  God,  is  quickly  mistaken  for  timidity  or 
weakness.  I  have  never — " 

"  There,  there  !  Rebecca,"  interposed  her  husband, 
with  a  gentle  but  amused  show  of  authority,  "  you  are 
getting  too  firmly  seated  on  the  tripod,  as  Pythian 
priestess,  and  are  bent  on  delivering  your  oracle ;  but 
I  will  not  countenance  it.  You  are  partly  right,  but 
only  partly  so.  Let  me  tell  you  about  the  plan  I  have 
for  our  future.  I  am  much  interested  in  it,  and  I  think 
we  will  be  very  happy  yet,  and  still  be  true  to  the  best 
there  is  in  us." 


CHAPTER  VI 

FROM  HIGHWAYS  AND  HEDGES 

"  The  blessed  work  of  helping  the  world  forward  happily  does 
not  wait  to  be  done  by  perfect  men ;  and  I  should  imagine  that 
neither  Luther  nor  John  Bunyan,  for  example,  would  have  satisfied 
the  modern  demand  for  an  ideal  hero."  —  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

Two  months  passed,  and  important  changes  had  been 
made.  Mr.  Freeman  had  closed  his  ministry  over  Em 
manuel  Church,  and  had  entered  upon  a  field  of  work 
which  he  had  been  contemplating  for  a  considerable 
time.  On  the  north  side  of  the  town  there  was  a  dense 
population  of  rather  rough,  ignorant  people,  where  the 
police  force  was  doubled  at  night,  and  persons  who 
were  affluent  enough  to  carry  watches  did  not  much 
care  to  display  them.  Scattered  among  these  disorderly 
classes  were  many  individuals  and  families,  of  higher 
intellectual  and  moral  attainments.  Some  of  these  fam 
ilies  were  descendants  of  well-to-do  original  settlers ; 
for  this  north  side  was  the  part  of  the  city  first  built, 
and  was  now  fallen  into  decay,  as  the  earliest  settled 
parts  of  any  city  are  likely  to  fall. 

Mr.  Freeman  had  seen,  long  before,  that  this  quarter 
was  left  too  much  to  itself,  by  people  of  reformatory 
and  philanthropic  inclinations ;  and  he  had  cast  about, 
at  times,  for  some  efficient  plan  of  reaching  the  people 
who  dwelt  here.  As  it  became  evident  to  him  that  his 
stay  in  Emmanuel  Church  was  to  terminate  soon,  he 
had  gone  over  this  waste  territory  more  carefully, 
and  tried  to  determine  its  stratification,  its  defences, 
and  its  most  promising  features.  Very  near  the  heart 

82 


FROM   HIGHWAYS  AND   HEDGES  83 

of  the  region  he  found  a  rusty-looking  old  structure, 
which  proved,  on  closer  inspection,  to  be  an  abandoned 
chapel  now  used  for  the  storage  of  merchandise.  The 
paint  was  off  the  building,  but  the  structure  itself  was 
in  good  weatherproof  condition.  The  steeple  had  been 
taken  down,  and  the  interior  stripped  of  all  ecclesiasti 
cal  furnishings.  After  making  a  good  survey  of  the 
premises,  Mr.  Freeman  had  inquired  and  learned  the 
owner's  name;  then  he  went  to  his  trusted  adviser, 
Mr.  Marshall,  as  truly  and  stanchly  his  friend  now 
as  when  the  former  official  relations  existed  between 
them.  The  building  was  the  property  of  a  business 
man,  not  personally  known  to  the  minister,  but  known 
to  Mr.  Marshall;  and,  as  Mr.  Freeman  explained  his 
plan  of  opening  some  hall  for  religious  and  educational 
work,  near  the  site  of  this  disused  chapel,  Mr.  Marshall 
at  once  saw  the  advantages  which  such  a  building  offered, 
and  silently  made  some  plans  of  his  own.  These  plans 
resulted  in  the  quiet  purchase  of  the  property  by 
Mr.  Marshall  and  another  man,  and  the  renting  it  to 
Mr.  Freeman  on  nominal  terms. 

Thus  was  accomplished  a  change  which  was  very  im 
portant  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freeman,  and  for  the  neigh 
borhood  into  which  they  removed  ;  for  they  rented  three 
or  four  rooms,  in  a  fairly  wholesome  part  of  the  north 
side,  and  took  up  their  abode  in  them.  They  did  not 
keep  house,  because  they  desired  to  conform  as  nearly 
as  possible  to  the  social  and  household  customs  around 
them ;  and,  to  do  that,  Mrs.  Freeman  would  have  been 
obliged  to  dispense  with  all  domestic  workers,  and  cook 
and  wash  and  keep  the  house  in  order.  This  she 
promptly  said  she  was  not  willing  to  do;  she  preferred 
to  give  her  time  and  strength  to  other  kinds  of  work 
which  interested  her  more,  for  which  she  was  fitted,  by 
her  college  training,  —  work  which  brought  her  in  some 


84  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

small  pecuniary  returns.  So  they  rented  rooms,  pre 
pared  their  own  breakfast  of  rolls  and  coffee,  or  choco 
late,  and  took  their  noon  meal  at  restaurants  or  hotels. 
As  to  their  evening  meal  they  sometimes  prepared  it 
for  themselves,  sometimes  they  took  it  at  a  hotel ;  but 
more  and  more  frequently  they  found  themselves  invited 
out  to  tea  or  dinner  by  friends.  Thus  they  settled  into 
the  characteristic  life  around  them,  as  quietly  as  possi 
ble.  It  was  really  "college  settlement"  life,  although 
the  Freemans  saw  no  need  of  giving  it  any  special  label 
whatever.  They  stored  a  part  of  their  furniture  and 
pictures  and  other  household  property,  keeping  only 
what  was  of  the  simplest  construction,  in  order  that 
they  might  eliminate,  as  far  as  possible,  seeming  differ 
ences  between  themselves  and  their  neighbors.  To  this 
same  end  they  sorted  out  their  pictures  and  other  orna 
mental  furnishings,  keeping  those  which  were  really 
beautiful  and  suggestive,  but  were  also  inexpensive ; 
this,  too,  they  did  with  regard  to  wall-paper ;  Mrs. 
Freeman  carefully  chose  really  tasteful  and  positive 
tints  and  patterns ;  which  proved  to  be  much  in  con 
trast  with  the  neutral,  dingy  styles  in  adjacent  house 
holds,  but  actually  cost  less.  Then,  when  neighbors 
came  in,  as  they  very  soon  did,  and  rather  openly  ad 
mired  one  and  another  article  or  arrangement  in  the 
rooms,  Mrs.  Freeman  was  quick  to  explain  how  little 
they  cost;  and  thus  she  influenced  the  people  around 
her,  by  open  example  and  by  quiet  indirect  instruction, 
to  make  their  homes  more  attractive,  and  thus  to  com 
pete  more  effectually  with  the  bar-rooms  of  the  neigh 
borhood. 

There  was  a  novelty  about  their  new  life,  which  made 
it  almost  like  a  visit  and  residence  in  London  or  Rome ; 
and  they  found  their  time  more  and  more  fully  occupied, 
although  in  ways  very  different  from  those  of  a  regular 


FROM   HIGHWAYS   AND    HEDGES  85 

minister  and  minister's  wife.  Mr.  Freeman  had  readily 
yielded  to  Mr.  Marshall's  suggestion  of  taking  a  few 
pupils  in  philosophy ;  and  Ned  Marshall,  with  two  other 
young  business  men,  came  once  or  twice  a  week  in  the 
evenings  to  study  these  subjects.  Olive  Marshall,  with 
three  or  four  girl  friends,  came  one  afternoon  in  a  week 
to  read  Latin  with  Mr.  Freeman,  and  one  afternoon  to 
study  literature  —  English,  French,  and  German  —  with 
Mrs.  Freeman.  Besides,  Mr.  Freeman  found  more  time 
now  for  the  writing  of  magazine  articles  on  sociological 
subjects  (and,  indeed,  found  excellent  material  all  about 
him),  and  also  obtained  a  position  as  regular  correspond 
ent  of  a  Western  weekly  newspaper.  His  father  had 
written  him,  and  both  understood  that  at  any  time  dur 
ing  this  severe  stress  of  resignation  and  removal,  if  the 
son  merely  expressed  the  wish,  his  father  would  be  able 
to  put  him  in  the  line  of  election  to  some  college  or  aca 
demic  work.  But  Lawrence  Freeman  was  as  earnest  as 
ever  in  his  devotion  to  the  real  heart  of  his  profession, 
which  is  "ministry,"  "I  came  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister,"  he  was  fond  of  quoting.  He 
knew,  without  affectation  or  morbid  self-consciousness, 
that  he  had  great  stores  of  sympathy  for  human  beings 
who  were  suffering  physical  privation,  or  mental  or  spir 
itual  maladjustment ;  and  he  was  determined  to  shape 
his  course,  if  possible,  so  as  to  give  a  field  for  this  kind 
of  true  ministration.  He  frankly  said  that  he  was  not 
fitted  for  service  in  a  society  like  Emmanuel  Church, 
but  he  hoped  to  find  himself  better  suited  to  this  new 
field  of  need.  His  heart  had  been  much  comforted,  on 
leaving  his  parish,  by  the  letters  and  messages  which 
came,  not  from  men  like  Dr.  Mixer  and  Mr.  Blaney, 
nor  women  like  Miss  Metcalf,  but  from  sundry  obscure 
people,  aged  or  infirm  or  forlorn,  who  wrote  or  spoke 
warmly  and  earnestly  and  concretely  of  the  ways  in 


86  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

which  he  had  helped  them.  Thus  he  saw  that  he  had 
not  failed,  utterly,  in  what  he  knew  —  judged  by  the 
highest  Christian  standards  —  was  the  real  work  of  his 
profession. 

This  rather  unusual  and  persistent  clinging  of  his  to 
the  clerical  part  of  his  present  work  showed  itself  in 
other  ways.  Many  men,  clergymen  and  laymen,  had 
gone  into  work  of  this  sort  at  various  times  and  in  vari 
ous  places ;  there  was  little  that  was  really  new  in  his 
plans.  He  was  well  aware,  however,  that  the  successful 
issue  of  his  experiment  would  rest,  not  on  any  system 
or  method,  but  on  him  personally,  on  both  him  and  his 
wife  as  individuals.  And  he  unconsciously  rejoiced  in 
the  field  now  offered  him  for  the  resolute,  dominating 
exercise  of  his  powers  of  organization  and  manage 
ment.  He  enjoyed  the  challenge  which  this  new  work 
held  forth  to  him ;  and  he  realized  that  so  far  as  he 
could  take  hold  of  the  neighborhood,  and  take  hold  of 
human  beings  personally,  and  arouse  them  and  raise 
their  standards  of  purity  —  physical  and  mental  and 
moral — and  their  intellectual  pursuits  and  social  amuse 
ments,  that  far  and  no  farther  would  his  work  be  real 
and  fruitful. 

Usually,  in  projecting  such  "  settlement  work "  (if 
named  it  must  be),  men  and  women  have  yielded  too 
much  to  the  secular  demands  of  the  people  around  them, 
and  have  too  often  omitted  (so  Lawrence  Freeman  be 
lieved)  the  distinctly  worshipful  part.  Such  workers 
have  too  weakly,  and  without  sufficient  analysis,  con 
ceded  weight  to  what  seemed  to  them  the  rational  in 
stincts  of  the  people  whom  they  sought  to  raise ;  anc 
thus  have  mistakenly  relinquished  direct  appeals  to 
the  spiritual  aspirations  of  those  people.  The  truth, 
as  Freeman  understood  the  situation,  was  that  such  dis 
eased  and  perverted  natures  should  no  more  be  blindly 


FROM    HIGHWAYS   AND   HEDGES  87 

yielded  to,  in  their  disproportionate  demands  for  certain 
elements  of  civilized  life,  and  in  their  condemnation  and 
repudiation  of  certain  other  elements,  than  should  a  per 
son  who  was  physically  ill.  It  is  for  the  physician  of 
bodies  and  the  physician  of  souls,  both,  to  determine, 
according  to  their  best  sympathies  and  judgments,  what 
is  needed  by  the  persons  whom  they  would  restore  to 
physical  or  moral  or  spiritual  health.  Therefore,  when 
the  young  minister,  in  his  new  environment,  heard  the 
usual  clamor  for  social  justice,  or  a  bitter  denuncia 
tion  of  "  psalm-singing  piety,"  he  met  it  with  calm 
ness,  not  arousing  opposition  by  unwise  argument, 
neither  hastily  and  weakly  yielding  his  own  deep  con 
viction,  which  was  —  that  much  of  that  kind  of  opposi 
tion  was  due,  not  to  moral,  reasonable,  just  causes, 
but  to  personal  experience  of  harshness  at  some  in 
dividual's  hands,  and  to  excessive  reaction  against  par 
ticular  phases  of  hypocrisy.  Accordingly,  his  purpose 
was  to  correct  such  social  disquiet,  by  the  education  of 
these  persons  in  the  inflexible  laws  of  social  and  politi 
cal  life,  and  by  arousing  also  the  instincts  of  worship 
which  he  believed  were  in  every  soul,  and  then  meeting 
and  satisfying  those  devotional  instincts  with  the  means 
of  private  and  public  worship.  To  these  ends  he  pre 
pared  himself  and  his  chapel  for  work  in  classes,  on 
subjects  of  economic,  hygienic,  and  sociological  interest, 
and  he  also  distinctly  emphasized  the  need  and  privilege 
of  public  worship.  He  renovated  the  chapel,  and  had 
rooms  in  it  partitioned  off  for  classes  in  various  depart 
ments  of  secular  education,  and  the  main  room  he  refur 
nished,  simply  but  tastefully,  as  a  place  for  dignified, 
solemn  \vorship.  Heartily  seconded  by  the  wise  and 
friendly  owners  of  the  property,  he  had  the  chapel 
colored  attractively,  and  he  even  so  far  departed  from 
conventional  ecclesiastical  customs  as  to  put  a  number 


88  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

of  pictures  on  its  walls.  These  pictures  were  mainly 
large  photographs,  and  each  taught  some  moral  or  reli 
gious  lesson,  and  many  of  them  he  used  as  illustrations 
in  his  sermons  and  addresses.  He  was  willing  to  use 
hand-bills  and  placards,  in  order  to  bring  his  lectures 
and  services  to  the  attention  of  the  public,  but  never 
pushed  this  advertising  beyond  the  bounds  of  propriety. 
He  counted  on  a  certain  initial  attendance  of  many  per 
sons  who  would  come  from  curiosity ;  but,  for  perma 
nent  attendance  and  loyalty  of  support,  he  depended 
on  his  own  and  his  wife's  personal  influence  and  exam 
ple,  as  the  earnest  character  of  their  purposes  should 
become  known. 

On  this  basis  of  a  broad  and  sound  education  of  all 
the  sides  of  man's  nature  —  physical,  mental,  moral,  and 
spiritual — Mr.  Freeman  went  forward  in  his  new  field 
of  labor.  And  his  simple,  earnest,  resolute,  and  yet  sym 
pathetic  ways  gradually  dispelled  suspicions,  and  gained 
friends  for  himself  and  adherents  for  his  work.  Many 
of  his  warm  friends  in  Emmanuel  Church  lent  their  aid ; 
but  while  he  gladly  and  gratefully  accepted  such  aid,  he 
expressly  told  them  that  they  still  owed  allegiance  to 
that  church.  He  was  unaffectedly  anxious  that  in  its 
choice  of  his  successor  they  should  act  wisely ;  and  he 
stood  ready,  if  asked,  to  give  any  counsel  which  lay  in 
his  power.  His  position  was  a  delicate  one,  wounded 
as  he  had  been  by  his  harsh  experience  and  by  the 
conduct  of  many  of  that  society's  strongest  supporters ; 
but  he  strove  with  his  bitter  feelings  and  conquered 
them,  and  hoped  to  see  another  succeed  where  he  had 
sadly  failed.  Leaving  him,  then,  for  the  present,  busily 
engaged  in  his  interesting  and  encouraging  work  among 
these  people  of  "the  highways  and  hedges,"  let  us  see 
how  Emmanuel  Church  determined  upon  a  new  leader. 


CHAPTER  VII 

HUNTING    MINISTERS 

"And  Micah  said  unto  the  Levite,  Dwell  with  me,  and  be  unto  me 
a  father  and  a  priest ;  and  I  will  give  unto  thee  ten  shekels  of  silver 
by  the  year,  and  a  suit  of  apparel,  and  thy  victuals.  So  the  Levite 
went  in."  —  Judges  xvii.  10. 

THE  festival  of  Emmanuel  Church  was  a  great  suc 
cess,  at  least  financially ;  but,  pray,  what  other  kind  of 
success  could  possibly  be  expected,  in  connection  with 
it  ?  Ah,  social  success  !  Considered  as  a  unit,  as  a 
totality,  there  was  only  one  kind  of  expectancy  regard 
ing  it  —  that  of  revenue;  but,  individually  considered, 
there  were  many  possibilities  which  were  not  realized, 
many  fond  hopes  of  established  social  intimacies  which 
died  in  the  bud.  The  excitement  faded  out ;  the  several 
hundred  dollars  which  had  been  gathered  and  enjoyed, 
in  the  respective  committees,  now  were  reluctantly 
transferred  to  Mr.  Pidge,  the  treasurer;  and  in  many 
households  there  were  exhausted  nerves,  and  several 
physicians  gained  new  cases  of  rheumatism  and  neu 
ralgia. 

Financially  and  collectively  a  success ;  but,  socially 
and  individually, —  not  much  to  speak  of.  A  majority  of 
the  women  who  had  pushed  the  enterprise  through  had 
done  so  from  two  simple  and  creditable  motives  :  one  was 
zeal  for  the  maintenance  of  the  church,  and  the  other 
was  that  fever  and  fury  of  battle  which  sustains  the  prize 
fighter,  and  the  soldier,  and  the  millionnaire  who  seeks  to 
add  another  million  to  his  first  one.  So  these  women, 

89 


9o  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

releasing  themselves,  for  a  brief  period,  from  the  monot 
ony  of  sweeping  and  cooking,  had  rejoiced  in  finding 
the  old  line  true,  that  "the  blood  more  stirs  to  rouse  a 
lion  than  to  start  a  hare."  They  had  deserved  to  be 
dubbed  "geniuses,"  for  they  had  "toiled  terribly."  But 
now  it  was  over,  and  Mr.  Pidge  stood  guardian  over  all 
their  earnings ;  and,  with  a  sigh,  these  "  faithful  work 
ers  "  took  up  again  the  broom  and  the  needle,  hus 
bands  reasserted  their  old-time  authority,  and  nothing 
remained  in  the  parish  households  to  testify  to  the  glory 
of  the  now  faded  festival,  except  now  and  then  a  pie 
underbaked,  or  a  buttonless  shirt  overlooked. 

This  statement  applies  to  the  really  loyal,  self-sacri 
ficing  part  of  the  church  and  congregation.  As  for  the 
ambitious,  jealous  portion,  they  had  little  or  nothing  left, 
as  a  residuum  of  the  sparkling  social  cup  which  had  been 
held  to  their  lips.  Miss  Metcalf  had  skilfully  arranged 
the  committees,  entirely  with  reference  to  the  work  she 
could  get  out  of  them ;  and  results  had  testified  to  her 
good  judgment.  Now  that  the  festival  was  over,  these 
various  groups  fell  apart,  since  the  centripetal  force  of  a 
common  mercenary  purpose  had  ceased  to  unite  them, 
and  the  usual  centrifugal  force  of  society's  ceaseless 
whirl  drove  them  apart.  All  up  and  down  the  stairway 
of  social  position  there  were  now  interesting  and  some 
times  painful  episodes.  Introductions  among  members 
of  committees  had  been  followed  by  intimacies,  as 
earnest  discussions  of  ways  and  means  went  forward. 
Courtesies  had  been  exchanged,  invitations  given,  and 
friendships  had  sprung  up,  with  all  the  speed  of  the 
mango  tree  under  the  Indian  juggler's  cloth;  but,  alas, 
like  the  mango  they  disappeared  with  celerity.  Perhaps 
the  only  change  in  any  of  the  centres  of  social  equilib 
rium  was  that  of  Mrs.  Bellaire.  She  had  really  gained 
ground ;  she  had  made  a  step  upward.  Miss  Metcalf, 


HUNTING   MINISTERS  91 

the  day  after  the  festival,  coolly  disregarded  most  of 
the  relationships  called  forth  by  its  duties ;  but,  with 
reference  to  Mrs.  Bellaire,  she  had  decided  to  allow  a 
more  permanent  intercourse.  She  condescendingly  per 
mitted  herself  to  be  "  known  "  by  the  ambitious,  rich, 
handsome  woman ;  -and  within  a  week  after  the  festival 
the  two  had  exchanged  calls  —  "really  social  calls,  you 
know  "  —and  the  friendship  or,  better,  alliance  assumed 
substantial  and  promising  proportions. 

Mrs.  Bellaire,  like  her  own  costly  house  on  its  corner 
lot,  had  an  outlook  in  several  directions.  The  house  looked 
out  on  various  streets,  of  various  degrees  of  respectabil 
ity  ;  likewise  did  Mrs.  Bellaire,  the  rich  plumber's  wife, 
look  forth  socially  on  several  "sets,"  of  varying  degrees 
of  eminence  and  prestige.  And  with  this  new  relation 
ship  established  between  herself  and  Miss  Metcalf  (that 
twig  highest  on  the  society  tree),  Mrs.  Bellaire  now  ruth 
lessly  severed  connection  with  two  or  three  persons  pre 
sumably  below  her,  whose  friendship  she  had  previously 
been  glad  to  possess.  Among  these,  thus  "  cut  off  with 
out  even  a  shilling,"  was  Mrs.  Train,  who  had  hoped  for 
many  things  from  Mrs.  Bellaire,  and  had  zealously  cul 
tivated  her.  Now,  alas,  Mrs.  Train,  living  on  a  side 
street,  and  occasionally  "taking  in  sewing,"  was  passed 
on  the  sidewalk  with  a  cool  nod,  by  her  former  friend, 
and  received  no  more  invitations  to  "  run  in  any  time." 
Poor  Mrs.  Train  !  Your  efforts  have  been  fruitless  and 
your  time  wasted.  Why  have  you  not  learned,  before  this, 
that,  however  the  Christian  path  of  life  may  be  a  "strait 
and  narrow  way,"  too  often,  alas,  the  elect  ones  of  Chris 
tian  society  must  dwell  on  the  broad  highway,  and,  if  possi 
ble,  in  houses  on  corner  lots.  And  as  for  your  hoping  to 
attain  the  high  levels  of  "  the  best  society,"  while  you  sew 
cotton  and  silk  together  for  purposes  of  warmth  and  de 
cency,  yes,  and  then  sell  those  articles,  or  hire  out  your 


92  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

labor,  —  well,  you  simply  cannot  do  it.  But  if  only  you 
will  dawdle  with  worsteds  or  silks,  over  embroidery  to 
be  given  away,  or  even  to  be  sold  for  twice  its  value  at 
the  Universal  Reform  Society's  Bazaar,  why,  that  is  en 
tirely  permissible ;  and  Mrs.  Grundy,  society's  beadle, 
will  relax  her  vigilance  at  society's  iron  gate,  and  nod 
sleepily  in  the  sunshine  as  you  pass  through. 

However,  the  worst  was  over ;  the  church  and  town 
were  again  in  a  normal  condition,  and  the  parish  com 
mittee,  Dr.  Mixer,  Mr.  Marshall,  Mr.  Blaney,  Mr.  Pidge, 
and  one  or  two  others,  were  "  on  the  war-path  after  min 
isters."  That  was  the  picturesque  and  dignified  way  in 
which  facetious  Mr.  Blaney  expressed  it,  whenever  the 
subject  came  up ;  and  it  came  up  often,  easily,  and  natu 
rally,  wherever  Mr.  Blaney  was  ;  if  not,  he  brought  it  up, 
by  force.  For  Mr.  Blaney  was  feverishly  happy  in  the 
exercise  of  his  official  functions  as  "  Committee  of  One 
to  provide  candidates."  He  had  more  leisure  than  had 
any  one  else  on  the  parish  committee ;  he  was  restless, 
and  suggestive,  and  ambitious  of  power.  You  would 
have  thought  that  he  carried  the  destinies  of  empires  in 
his  hands,  as  he  walked  along  the  street ;  and  when  he 
closed  his  jaw  with  an  impressive  firmness  of  resolve, 
the  stubby  white  beard  on  his  chin  hid  the  weak  reces 
sion  of  that  feature,  and  he  looked,  with  his  corrugated 
brow,  really  Bismarckian. 

Some  of  the  more  substantial  and  conservative  mem 
bers  of  the  parish  agreed  with  the  counsel  given  to  Mr. 
Marshall  by  the  retiring  pastor,  that  the  vacancy  be  filled 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  that  advice  and  suggestions  be 
asked  of  several  of  the  leading  clergymen  of  the  denomi 
nation.  These  sensible  members  of  the  parish  knew,  by 
experience,  that  the  period  of  candidating  is  injurious  to 
the  best  life  of  any  church ;  they  had  seen  the  harm  of 
it,  on  previous  occasions,  when  the  entire  congregation 


HUNTING   MINISTERS  93 

sat,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  at  what  purported  to  be  a  ser 
vice  of  divine  worship,  but  really  was  a  "  committee  of 
the  whole,"  a  sort  of  enlarged  jury,  watchful  and  criti 
cal,  with  all  worshipful  emotions  driven  away,  and  the 
always  dangerous  faculty  of  fault-finding  temporarily 
in  control. 

Therefore  these  sensible  and  anxious  people,  dreading 
the  fall  of  the  spiritual  thermometer  which  always  re 
sults  at  such  times  (and  usually  rises  very  slowly  and 
feebly  afterward)  —  these  persons  hoped  for  a  brief 
period  of  candidating,  and  urged  methods  which  would 
tend  to  shorten  it. 

Little  did  those  who  urged  this  reflect  upon  the  nature 
and  tendencies  of  Mr.  Wilbur  Blaney,  "  Committee  of 
Supplies."  Could  they  for  one  moment  suppose  that 
he,  having  once  grasped  the  sceptre  of  power,  would 
so  easily  lay  it  down  ?  Not  he.  He  had  always  dearly 
loved  power,  had  abused  it  when  he  obtained  it,  and 
rarely  had  it  been  bestowed  on  him  by  the  same  person 
or  organization  a  second  time.  However,  there  he  was, 
clothed  with  authority  to  invite  and  reject  applicants,  to 
say  absolutely  who  should  or  should  not  occupy  the 
pulpit  of  Emmanuel  Church,  for  one  or  more  Sundays. 
"  The  power  of  the  keys  "  was  his  temporarily,  and  he 
jingled  and  jangled  them  on  every  occasion,  public  or 
private.  "  Choose  a  pastor  soon  ?  "  No,  indeed.  He 
did  not  believe  in  such  haste.  "  Let's  go  slow,"  he  said 
frequently,  his  zeal  getting  the  better  of  his  diction  ;  and 
again,  with  what  seemed  to  himself  surprising  business 
sagacity,  when  he  was  with  Dr.  Mixer  or  Mr.  Marshall, 
he  laid  his  forefinger  beside  his  nose,  winked  knowingly, 
and  remarked,  "  Candidating  on  Sunday  costs  less  than 
supporting  a  minister  all  the  week ;  chance  now  for 
Emmanuel  Church  to  catch  up  with  itself."  Which  was 
good  management,  from  the  treasury  point  of  view,  for 


94  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

a  brief  period  ;  but  was  very  short-sighted  economy  when 
the  real  growth  and  welfare  of  the  church  was  considered. 
The  one  secret  thorn  that  pricked  Mr.  Blaney,  as  he  went 
forward  in  his  important  duties,  was  the  annoying  cer 
tainty  that  sooner  or  later  somebody  must  be  chosen. 
But  that  dreaded  day  of  his  own  undoing  he  was  re 
solved  to  put  as  far  away  as  possible.  Meanwhile,  what 
candidates  were  available  ? 

So  soon  as  the  fact  of  Mr.  Freeman's  resignation  had 
become  noised  abroad,  letters  had  begun  to  come  in, 
some  to  Dr.  Mixer,  some  to  Mr.  Pidge,  and  many  to 
Mr.  Freeman.  These  letters  were  now  all  turned  over 
to  Mr.  Blaney,  and  he  soon  possessed  himself  of  their 
contents.  Many  of  the  letters  came  directly  from  min 
isters,  asking  permission  to  preach  for  a  Sunday  in  the 
vacant  pulpit.  Some  of  these  applicants  were  already 
occupying  pulpits,  but  the  majority  were  not.  Certain 
of  the  letters  were  from  persons  asking  an  opportunity 
for  clerical  friends  to  be  heard.  A  part  of  the  letters 
were  brief  and  dignified,  a  few  of  them  were  servile  and 
boastful.  Taking  them  all  in  one  bundle,  Mr.  Blaney 
thoughtfully  crowded  them  into  a  pigeonhole  of  his 
desk,  and  wrote,  inviting  a  country  minister  whom  he 
had  listened  to  the  summer  before, —  said  minister  being 
rough  in  manner  and  crude  in  ideas,  and  not  in  the 
least  likely  to  prove  acceptable  to  the  congregation. 
This  diversion  would  give  the  "  Committee  on  Supplies  " 
time  to  frame  —  not  his  attack,  but  rather  his  de 
fence  ;  for  somebody  was  destined  to  get  through  his 
fortifications  sooner  or  later,  and  Mr.  Blaney  simply 
aimed  at  postponing  surrender  as  long  as  possible. 

He  wrote  and  mailed  his  letter  as  soon  as  possible. 
Then  on  his  way  home  he  happened  to  meet  Mr. 
Marshall.  Of  course  the  all-important  subject  of  can 
didates  was  broached.  Mr.  Marshall  let  fall  the  remark 


HUNTING   MINISTERS  95 

that  Mr.  Freeman  had  mentioned  a  friend  of  his,  named 
Meade,  as  an  excellent  minister,  and  one  likely  to  fill 
the  pulpit  creditably.  In  all  matters  of  business  Mr. 
Marshall  had  an  unerring  instinct,  and  could  lead  men 
and  forestall  events  with  great  accuracy ;  but  in  reli 
gious  affairs,  or  rather  in  affairs  ecclesiastical,  he  was 
liable  to  err,  through  the  very  sincerity  and  earnestness 
of  his  own  devout  and  humble  spiritual  nature,  which 
was  much  stronger  and  deeper  —  "free  thinker"  as  he 
was  often  called  —  than  most  of  those  who  thus  unfairly 
judged  him.  .So,  in  such  matters  as  the  conduct  of  pub 
lic  worship,  and  even  in  matters  correlated  with  it,  he 
moved  sometimes  a  little  blindly  —  as  in  this  case,  when 
one  day  he  suggested  to  Mr.  Blaney  the  advisability  of 
inviting  this  friend  of  Mr.  Freeman's  to  preach,  add 
ing  that  Mr.  Freeman  thought  him  a  very  promising 
candidate. 

Mr.  Blaney  took  alarm  instantly,  and  Mr.  Marshall 
at  once  noted  it  in  the  excitable,  wilful,  vain  man,  but 
did  not  understand  its  cause.  Mr.  Blaney  replied,  with 
an  excessive  blandness  and  volubility  which  betrayed  his 
uneasiness,  that  he  would  give  the  matter  his  immediate 
consideration.  The  two  men  parted,  and  Mr.  Blaney 
faced  his  little  problem  alone  ;  the  problem  being  how 
to  comply  with  this  suggestion  of  Mr.  Marshall's  and 
Mr.  Freeman's,  yet  not  to  bring  his  own  dictatorship  to 
a  close.  The  upshot  of  his  deliberations  was  that  he  in 
vited  Mr.  Meade  for  the  second  Sunday,  rather  shrewdly 
soliloquizing  that  the  parish,  the  congregation,  was  little 
likely  to  choose  one  of  the  earlier  candidates,  but  would 
wish  to  wait  and  see  what  might  be  in  store  for  them. 
Therefore,  Mr.  Blaney  decided  that  if  this  rather  attrac 
tive  Mr.  Meade  must  be  allowed  in  front  of  the  con 
gregation  at  all,  it  were  best  that  he  come  as  soon  as 
possible. 


96  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

This  plan  was  followed ;  and  after  the  first  raw  rustic 
candidate  had  pounded  the  pulpit  cushions  to  his  satis 
faction,  for  the  first  Sunday,  Mr.  Meade  appeared,  on 
the  second  Sunday,  and  received  an  attentive  hearing. 
"He  came,  he  saw,"  and  was  seen  —  but  he  did  not 
conquer.  He  was  a  man  of  good  ability,  and  possessed 
of  high  standards ;  but  Emmanuel  Church  —  as  Mr. 
Blaney  astutely  had  foreseen  —  was  so  expectant  of 
marvellous  eloquence,  had  its  hopes  pitched  at  so 
high  a  key,  that  only  a  Chrysostom  or  a  Whitefield 
could  have  satisfied  it  at  that  early  stage  of  the  can- 
didating  period.  Later,  this  Mr.  Meade  might  have 
been  welcomed,  after  the  hard  facts  of  human  imper 
fection  had  been  exemplified  from  the  pulpit  a  dozen 
or  more  Sundays.  But  at  present  there  was  not  the 
slightest  chance  that  any  preacher  would  suit.  The 
congregation  sat  in  sphinx-like  silence,  with  the  cool 
indifference  and  the  haughty  sense  of  power  which 
characterized  the  old-time  assemblage  in  the  Colosseum 
as  gladiators  fought  to  make  a  Roman  holiday.  Un 
consciously  they  showed  the  same  love  of  power  which 
animated  Mr.  Blaney,  and,  like  him,  they  were  in  no 
way  eager  to  terminate  the  candidating,  for  this  would 
end  their  own  brief  judicial  career. 

There  were  many  intricacies  and  professional  sub 
tleties  connected  with  the  delicate  matter  of  candidat 
ing,  some  of  which  were  creditable  and  some  were  not. 
Mr.  Blaney,  as  "  Committee  on  Supplies,"  learned  more 
or  less  of  them,  in  the  course  of  his  reign.  One  of 
these  niceties  was  that  a  minister  should  not  be  invited 
to  come  and  "  candidate "  at  a  church.  No.  Mr. 
Blaney  had  perceived  the  need  of  euphemism,  by  the 
time  he  had  read  through  a  half  dozen  of  the  earliest 
applications  and  replies  to  his  own  invitations.  No 
minister  replied  that  he  would  come  and  "  preach  as 


HUNTING   MINISTERS  97 

a  candidate."  Not  he.  He  would,  however,  be  most 
happy  to  "  occupy  the  pulpit,"  or  to  "  act  as  supply," 
or  to  "  preach,"  but  was  "  not  to  be  considered  as  a  can 
didate  "  —  and  so  on.  Yet  every  one  of  them  (or  nearly 
so)  was  eager  to  be  called  to  the  vacant  pulpit,  and 
knew,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  appearance 
at  the  church,  that  he  was  on  trial.  Occasionally  some 
self-respecting  minister,  on  receiving  one  of  Mr.  Blaney's 
mandatory  epistles,  replied  briefly  that  his  work  and  his 
character  were  open  to  examination,  on  week  days  and 
Sundays,  in  his  own  parish  and  pulpit ;  and  if  a  com 
mittee  from  Emmanuel  Church  desired  to  visit  him  in 
his  church,  or  consult  his  parish  committee,  he  would 
give  them  a  cordial  welcome  or  aid  them  to  make 
thorough  inquiries. 

This  was  on  the  highest  level  of  ministerial  dignity 
and  delicacy,  and  it  was  the  soundest  level  on  which 
the  search  for  a  minister  could  have  been  conducted, 
and,  indeed,  is  conducted,  by  the  most  cultivated  and 
most  intelligent  parishes ;  but  such  a  method  would 
have  defeated  Mr.  Blaney's  plans  and  undermined  his 
power  and  pleasure.  Besides,  it  was  "  too  much 
trouble,"  he  argued  with  Dr.  Mixer ;  so  they  voted  the 
writers  of  such  letters  "prigs  and  upstarts,"  and  Mr. 
Blaney  at  once  found  evidence,  or  manufactured  it,  to 
prove  that  those  ministers  were  of  an  inferior  quality. 

Thus  the  Sundays  passed,  and  each  brought  some 
novelty  before  the  eyes  and  ears  of  the  congregation. 
It  was  nothing  less  than  ecclesiastical  vaudeville ;  and, 
in  that  case,  the  demand  and  taste  for  it  in  Emmanuel 
Church  coincided  with  that  of  the  theatre  public  at 
large ;  which,  as  everybody  knows,  has  found  serious, 
thoughtful,  artistic  plays  somewhat  a  burden,  and  has 
declared,  by  the  clink  of  its  silver  and  gold,  for  the 
"  continuous  performance." 


98  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

The  congregation,  for  a  time,  greatly  enjoyed  —  or 
seemed  to  enjoy  —  that  kind  of  entertainment  which 
Wilbur  Blaney,  Esq.,  agent,  was  furnishing.  In  proof 
of  this,  Mr  Blaney  noted  —  and  was  not  backward  in 
calling  attention  to  the  same  —  that  the  congregations 
had  appreciably  enlarged.  There  was  another  change, 
however,  which  he  did  not  notice,  and  that  was  in  the 
quality  of  the  attention  which  the  congregation  gave. 
Before  the  candidating  began,  most  people  came  in 
quietly,  reverently,  some  of  them  bowing  their  heads 
for  a  moment  in  prayer;  and  throughout  the  service 
showed  a  sense  of  participation  in  the  same  by  voice 
or  attentive  manner.  Now  it  had  become  different ; 
there  was  an  aloofness,  a  critical  flavor  about  the 
assemblage,  which  manifested  itself  in  many  unpleas 
ant  ways.  The  gainers  by  the  change  seemed  to  be 
the  organist  and  choir ;  for  they,  in  the  past,  had  been 
continuously  found  fault  with ;  but  their  shortcomings 
were  quite  overlooked,  in  the  general  zeal  to  find  some 
flaw  in  the  occupant  of  the  pulpit. 

There  was  a  comedy  side  and  a  tragedy  side,  also,  to 
it  all.  "  Life  is  a  comedy  to  him  who  thinks  ;  to  him  who 
feels,  it  is  a  tragedy."  Therefore,  from  the  congrega 
tion's  point  of  view,  this  was  comedy,  for  the  congre 
gation's  heart,  with  its  love  and  worship,  had  been 
temporarily  laid  aside ;  and  its  head,  its  thinking,  criti 
cal  part,  had  the  leadership. 

Be  it  said,  however,  for  truth's  sake,  that  this  lament 
able  lowering  of  ideals  was  not  characteristic  of  the  entire 
congregation,  perhaps  not  numerically  of  a  majority; 
there  were  many  people,  of  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  sort, 
who  really  came  to  church  to  be  helped  over  hard 
places,  to  gain  strength  in  their  troubles  and  trials,  to 
be  lifted  out  of  sordid  levels,  and  to  catch  anew  the 
vision  of  the  "  unseen  realities."  Such  people  were 


HUNTING   MINISTERS  99 

disappointed  and  depressed ;  but  although  they  formed 
a  considerable  part  of  the  church,  they  made  but  slight 
demonstration  of  their  feelings,  and  waited  in  silence 
for  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day. 

So  the  more  demonstrative,  more  commercial,  elements 
in  the  church  seemed  to  be  more  numerous  than  they 
really  were ;  they  asserted  themselves  at  every  turn, 
and  practically  controlled  the  situation.  These  persons 
enjoyed  their  Sundays  as  never  before,  and  did  greatly 
increase  the  size  of  the  congregations.  There  were 
smiles,  at  times,  as  funny  things  happened  in  the  pul 
pit.  One  preacher,  who  ventured  to  deliver  a  sermon 
which  evidently  was  not  of  recent  preparation,  and  had 
not  been  looked  over,  spoke  warmly  of  a  presidential 
election  as  just  occurring,  which  had  really  taken  place 
three  years  before ;  and,  a  little  later  in  the  sermon,  he 
lost  his  place  among  the  disordered  leaves  of  his  manu 
script,  and  was  obliged  ignominiously  to  stop  and  take 
several  minutes  to  rearrange  the  confused  mass.  Such 
pleasant  episodes  sent  ripples  of  laughter  over  the  con 
gregation,  and  made  the  time  pass  very  pleasantly. 

Concerning  every  minister  who  occupied  the  pulpit, 
there  were  a  half  dozen  differing  opinions.  One  liked 
this  kind  of  sermon,  and  others  liked  that  kind ;  some 
demanded  manuscript  preaching,  others  believed  in 
emancipation  from  the  same.  One  preacher  shouted 
so  loudly  as  to  deafen  the  five  front  pews,  but  de 
lighted  the  hearts  of  some  aged  and  deaf  persons  who 
sat  in  the  rear  of  the  church,  and  would  persist  in 
sitting  there,  because  of  old  associations.  These  indi 
viduals  had  not  heard  the  whole  of  the  sermon,  but 
were  greatly  gratified  with  the  sturdy  preacher's  sten 
torian  voice,  which  had  kept  them  from  slumber,  really 
arousing  their  aural  tympana  into  pleasurable  vibration. 

Bad  as  the  whole  affair  was,  —  this  prolonged  can- 


ioo  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

didating,  —  it  was  no  worse,  per  se,  than  was  the  old 
nomination  of  Roman  candidates  for  office,  or  the  modern 
campaigning  of  would-be  governors  and  senators.  The 
great  harm  of  it  was  in  the  lowered  morale  of  the  con 
gregation  ;  inasmuch  as  the  bid  for  votes,  on  the  part 
of  these  clerical  candidates,  was  not  made  in  a  market 
place,  or  forum,  or  public  hall,  as  in  affairs  political,  but 
in  a  place  and  on  a  day  commonly  set  apart  for  higher 
and  more  spiritual  ends ;  thus  the  sanctities  of  public 
worship  were  set  aside,  disregarded,  even  permanently 
uprooted. 

Still,  looking  at  this  weekly  exhibition  from  its 
comedy  or  congregational  side,  it  may  be  said  that  there 
were  many  interesting  situations.  One  preacher  was 
much  liked  by  a  large  number  of  people,  because  he 
had  a  beautiful  baritone  voice,  and  took  magnificent 
lead  of  the  congregational  hymns.  Another  had  his 
sermon  as  full  of  quotations  from  famous  authors  as  a 
Christmas  pudding  is  full  of  plums,  and  his  profound 
learning  was  deeply  impressed  upon  many  minds,  —  they 
had  never  seen  "  Allibone's  Prose  Quotations."  Also, 
one  gentleman  of  commanding  presence  made  use  of  a 
few  and  very  long  quotations  from  Burke,  Fox,  Cicero, 
and  other  classic  orators ;  and  he  gave  these  long 
declamations  with  grand  effect,  each  being  admirable 
in  itself,  but  in  no  very  evident  way  being  related  to 
the  others.  This  man  bade  fair  to  gain  a  large  fol 
lowing,  until  Mrs.  Guthrie's  comment  gained  currency, 
to  the  effect  that  nobody  needed  to  come  to  church  to 
hear  Cicero,  and  Burke,  and  others  declaimed,  for  these 
could  be  read  at  home. 

Another  of  the  more  promising  candidates  was  a 
rough,  awkward  young  fellow,  who  had  a  natural  apti 
tude  for  public  speaking,  and  had  something  worth 
saying ;  but,  unfortunately,  he  occasionally  departed, 


HUNTING  MINISTERS  101 

in  his  earnest  exhortations,  from  the  very  well  written 
manuscript  before  him,  and  interpolated  some  purely 
extempore  sentences ;  and  in  these  his  language  fell 
short  of  the  smoothness  and  precision  of  his  written 
discourse.  Therefore,  although  these  interpolations 
were  evidently  burning  utterances,  from  a  sincere 
heart,  the  critical  jury  before  him  saw  —  or  thought 
they  saw  —  or  thought  their  neighbors  saw  —  a  misuse 
of  the  English  language.  Accordingly,  their  feelings 
of  propriety  were  ruffled,  and  a  considerable  number  of 
people  pursed  their  lips  with  protestation,  and  did  not 
unlock  them  until  after  the  benediction,  when  they 
could  freely  express  their  dislike  for  the  raw  young 
orator.  However,  this  horror  of  the  preacher's  Eng 
lish  was  not  shared  by  all.  "  Language  ?  Language  ? 
Trouble  with  his  language  ?  "  exclaimed  old  Cy'  Colburn. 
"Why,  that's  it,  is  it?  Now  I  didn't  notice  nothin' 
wrong.  But  there !  I  hain't  never  had  no  trouble  with 
my  language." 

One  of  the  candidates  was  a  person  who  might  have 
made  a  good  showing  in  the  political  field,-  and  pos 
sessed  the  instincts  of  a  born  diplomat.  On  accepting 
Mr.  Blaney's  now  proper  and  conventional  invitation  to 
"supply  the  pulpit,"  he  inquired  for  a  "year-book,"  or 
church  manual,  if  there  were  such  an  annual  publica 
tion.  This  being  forwarded  to  him,  he  happily  found 
in  it  a  subscription-list  to  some  charity.  This  list,  with 
amounts  opposite  names,  gave  the  clever  young  man  a 
fairly  correct  key  to  the  sources  of  financial  revenue  in 
the  parish.  He  preached  very  acceptably  on  Sunday ; 
and  then  on  Monday,  equipped  with  this  list,  he  made 
a  great  many  "social  calls."  It  was  a  well-laid  plan, 
and  might  have  resulted  more  satisfactorily  to  the 
misplaced  young  plenipotentiary,  but  for  one  counter 
influence.  He  had  carefully  sounded — as  he  thought 


102 

—  Mr.  Blaney,  regarding  the  theological  temper  of  the 
church ;  and  he  had  been  warmly  assured  by  the 
Machiavellian  "Committee  on  Supplies  "  (who  had  sus 
pected  his  scheme)  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  peo 
ple  were  very  conservative,  very  conservative  indeed 
(which  statement  happened  to  be  the  exact  opposite  of 
the  fact). 

Enough  said.  The  hopeful  young  candidate  put  his 
radical  and  progressive  sermon  deep  down  into  his 
travelling-bag,  and  used  his  discourse  on  "  The  Nature 
and  Tendency  of  Sin,"  wherein  he  quoted  Moses  and 
Calvin,  agreed  with  Augustine  and  Edwards,  declared 
boldly  for  a  personal  devil,  had  several  sulphurous  sug 
gestions  of  —  not  "Sheol"  nor  "Hades"  but  "Hell"; 
and  ended,  red  faced  and  wet  eyed,  with  a  violent 
appeal  to  all  to  "  make  their  calling  and  election  sure," 
and  to  "  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come." 

That  was  where  he  failed  in  his  own  calling  and 
election,  at  least  in  Emmanuel  Church,  which  prided 
itself  on  its  advanced  views,  and  liked  a  pinch  of 
science  in  most  sermons,  and  a  friendly  reference  to 
some  famous  picture  or  sonata.  So  the  reverend  gen 
tleman  wended  his  fruitless  way  around  among  the 
homes  and  business  offices,  but  was  received  with  a 
coolness  and  apathy  which  perplexed  and  disheartened 
him ;  and  he  left  town,  two  trains  earlier  than  he  had 
intended. 

Thus  the  continuous  performance  went  on,  Sunday 
after  Sunday.  There  were  objections  to  every  candi 
date.  One  man  was  "  awfully  tall,"  and  another  was 
"  dreadfully  short."  One  wore  a  necktie  with  a  red 
tint  in  it,  and  another  did  not  have  his  hair  smoothed 
properly.  A  certain  young  fellow,  blessed  with  an 
abundance  of  brown  hair,  wore  it  brushed  so  smoothly 
and  compactly,  that  "Sister"  Jennings  and  "Sister" 


HUNTING  MINISTERS  103 

Moulton,  as  they  walked  home  together,  discussed  the 
question,  all  the  way,  as  to  whether  or  not  the  young 
candidate  wore  a  wig.  "  Sister "  Moulton  had  good 
reason  to  know  the  arts  of  arrangement  and  conceal 
ment  in  that  form  of  head  decoration ;  and  she  there 
fore  spoke  with  authority.  But  she  spoke  guardedly, 
not  too  freely,  lest  her  companion  should  suspect  her 
of  wearing  one ;  thus  she  preserved,  as  she  thought 
with  great  cleverness,  a  secret  which  had  been  a  patent 
fact  to  the  congregation  so  long  that  it  had  ceased  to 
be  interesting. 

Among  the  candidates  it  was  inevitable  that  there 
should  be  at  least  one  of  those  wearisome  occupants 
of  pulpits,  who  are  commonly  known  as  "  scholarly 
preachers."  Given  that  brief  description,  any  person 
of  experience  could  add  certain  other  characteristics. 
This  particular  man  wore  glasses,  because  his  sight 
was  poor.  At  once  the  congregation  assumed  that  his 
impaired  vision  had  been  caused  by  excessive  devotion 
to  profound  studies.  He  was  slow  and  painstaking  also 
in  movements  and  in  speech.  This  arose  from  a  natural 
stupidity  of  mind ;  but  to  the  congregation  it  meant  an 
absorption  in  recondite  and  spiritual  fields  of  thought. 
He  preached  a  sermon  which  was  never  above  the 
commonplace,  and  delivered  it  in  a  tone  that  never 
rose  out  of  a  soporific  monotone.  Occasionally  he 
paused,  after  some  profound  observation,  like  "  We 
must  all  die,"  or  "  Every  man  has  his  cares,"  and  gazed 
intently  down  over  the  assembly,  to  make  sure  that 
they  were  grasping  the  full  meaning  of  his  ideas.  At 
such  awful  moments  the  sudden  cessation  of  his  dron 
ing  voice  waked  up  many  of  those  who  were  quietly 
and  unostentatiously  slumbering,  and  they  hastily  tried 
to  get  into  touch  with  the  spectacled  oracle  beaming 
patiently  upon  them. 


io4  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

This  candidate,  the  "scholarly  man,"  had  no  observ 
able  faults  and  no  noticeable  merits.  Everybody  mur 
mured,  on  going  out,  "  How  scholarly !  "  and  nobody, 
for  his  life,  could  have  told  what  he  meant  by  the  ex 
pression  ;  but  one  thing  was  evident,  however,  and  that 
was  that  Emmanuel  Church  approved  the  man,  but  did 
not  desire  to  settle  him  —  had  not  the  slightest  notion  of 
it. 

All  this  was  the  "  comedy  "  side  of  the  situation.  This 
was  the  aspect  of  the  candidating  period,  from  the 
merely  intellectual  and  critical  point  of  view ;  but  to 
those  who  could  feel,  as  well  as  perceive,  there  was  a 
serious  and  even  tragic  element  in  much  of  it.  There, 
for  instance,  was  the  young  man,  pale,  thin,  high-keyed 
in  voice,  impassioned  in  spirit,  who  preached  a  sermon 
that  had  no  meaning  whatever  to  men  like  Dr.  Mixer 
and  Blaney  ;  but  Mr.  Marshall  divined  and  Mrs.  Guthrie 
quickly  understood  that  he  was  singing  a  death-song  to 
them  that  day.  The  truth  was  that  he  had  economized 
so  closely  in  the  theological  seminary,  had  lived  on  so 
small  an  amount  of  food,  and  worn  such  thin  clothing, 
and  worked  so  excessively,  that  he  had  undermined  his 
vitality ;  and  the  fervor  with  which  he  spoke  was  that 
of  the  hectic  invalid,  and  his  point  of  view  was  heaven, 
rather  than  earth.  There  was  no  possibility  that  such 
a  person  could  be  selected,  and  he  came  and  went  like 
a  spirit,  arid  his  pure  and  holy  message  was  long  re 
membered  —  as  was  our  Lord's  —  by  "  those  who  could 
hear  it." 

Again,  there  was  the  candidate,  a  former  college  mate 
of  Freeman's,  who  came  to  his  house  on  the  north 
side  on  Monday  morning,  after  his  Sunday  duty,  and 
was  of  course  warmly  welcomed.  Each  called  the  other 
by  the  last  name,  and  both  enjoyed  the  renewal  of  old 
school  ties ;  but  the  gayety  in  the  visitor's  manner  was 


HUNTING   MINISTERS  105 

a  forced  gayety,  and  the  cause  of  this  presently  tran 
spired.  He  was  a  steady-going,  right-minded  man,  but 
had  never  advanced,  in  the  path  of  promotion,  beyond 
the  little  seaside  hamlet  and  wooden  chapel  in  which  he 
had  first  settled,  on  graduating.  There  he  was  respected 
and  loved,  but  the  salary  was  small  and  his  family  was 
large.  Several  times  Lawrence  had  heard  of  his  candi- 
dating  in  various  larger  parishes,  but  always  he  had  re 
turned  to  his  little  round  of  duty  among  the  fishermen. 
Just  how  he  had  been  included  in  the  list  of  candidates 
for  Emmanuel  Church,  Mr.  Freeman  did  not  know ;  but 
here  he  was,  looking  forlorn,  in  his  rusty  coat,  and  with 
a  wistful,  patient  expression  on  his  thin,  careworn  face. 
After  the  usual  inquiries  had  been  made,  he  broke  a 
somewhat  prolonged  silence  by  saying  timidly,  "  I  am 
awfully  sorry  to  ask  it,  Freeman,  but  I  am  really  obliged 
to  ;  you  see  —  er  —  I  —  I  haven't  the  money  to  pay  my 
car-fare  back  home.  It  costs  about  four  dollars  and  a 
half;  and  I  thought,  I  thought  —  that  the  committee 
would  pay  me  the  usual  fee  this  morning ;  but  Mr. 
Blaney  has  gone  —  " 

"Well,  that's  all  right,  all  right,"  interrupted  Free 
man,  in  a  friendly  and  careless  way,  as  if  such  a  trifle 
need  not  be  delayed  over.  And  taking  out  his  purse 
he  handed  his  old  friend  a  five-dollar  bill.  This 
was  received  with  a  burst  of  grateful  expression,  and 
the  candidate  was  led  to  open  his  heart  to  his  host, 
and  tell  him  some  of  his  discouragements  and  trials. 
Lawrence  always  unconsciously  drew  forth,  from  people 
in  trouble,  such  confidences ;  his  nature  was  so  strong 
and  sincere,  yet  tender,  that  a  person  quickly  felt,  in  his 
presence,  the  certainty  of  a  sympathetic  response.  The 
narrative  was  a  touching  one  :  the  young  man  had  gone 
forth  from  his  theological  studies,  with  idealistic  views, 
with  high  purposes  for  helping  the  world,  and  had  been 


io6  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

wounded  by  rebuffs,  cast  down  by  misunderstandings, 
plunged  into  debt  by  sickness,  and  by  poor  manage 
ment,  as  he  confessed  frankly.  He  had  given  up  hope 
for  his  own  professional  preferment ;  and  his  one 
aim  now  was  to  advance  his  children,  by  education,  so 
that  they  might  make  more  of  a  success  than  he  had 
made.  Hardly  forty  years  old  as  he  was,  he  seemed 
like  a  broken  old  man ;  and  Freeman  pitied  him,  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart. 

Well,  he  went  his  way.  Emmanuel  Church  had  no 
idea  of  calling  him. 

They  had  tacitly  agreed,  as  they  left  church,  that  "  he 
had  no  spirit,"  and  Dr.  Mixer  expressed  it  even  more 
tersely  and  forcibly.  Thus  they  decided ;  and  knew 
not  that  the  man  was  weak  in  body  from  lack  of  good 
food,  and  cast  down  in  soul  because  of  baffled  hopes 
and  overwhelming  anxieties  concerning  his  little  family. 

One  other  candidate  may  properly  here  be  singled 
out,  among  the  more  pathetic  cases.  It  was  that  of  a 
man,  aged  about  fifty-five  years,  who  was  prematurely 
gray  haired,  but  was  still  in  full  possession  of  his 
faculties  and  of  a  rich  store  of  experience  which  would 
have  made  him  a  trusted  pastor  and  counsellor  fifty 
years  before,  but  now  his  whitish-gray  locks  condemned 
him.  Mr.  Blaney  had  not  been  forewarned  about  his 
age,  else  he  would  not  have  invited  him ;  still,  the  man 
came  among  the  first  half  of  the  applicants,  and  when, 
as  yet,  the  "  Committee  on  Supplies  "  was  not  eager  to 
obtain  "  first-rate  talent."  Gray  as  Mr.  Blaney  himself 
was,  he  had  no  mercy  for  a  gray-haired  candidate.  His 
theory,  as  expressed  to  Dr.  Mixer,  was  that  they  must 
have  a  "bright,  smart,  lively  young  man,  one  that  would 
make  things  jump."  In  which  standard  of  apostolic 
excellence  he  coincided  with  the  grocer  down  the  street, 
who  made  it  a  rule  "  never  to  hire  a  man  over  thirty 


HUNTING   MINISTERS  107 

years  of  age,  because  after  that  age  men  couldn't  move 
fast  enough  to  keep  up  with  his  trade."  "Movement" 
being  the  desideratum,  and  speed  taking  precedence 
over  thoroughness  and  honesty,  there  was  little  chance 
for  a  noble,  disciplined  manhood,  either  in  the  grocery 
trade  or  in  the  pulpit  of  Emmanuel  Church.  This  was 
substantially  what  Mr.  Blaney  said  to  the  dignified  man, 
as  he  "  paid  him  off,"  Sunday  night.  Usually  the  supply 
fee  was  sent  by  mail,  early  in  the  week,  after  the  service 
was  rendered.  Mr.  Marshall  —  coached  by  Mr.  Free 
man,  who  distrusted  Blaney's  methods  —  had  insisted 
on  this  plan ;  but  Blaney  had  a  mean,  cruel,  streak 
in  him,  like  that  which  makes  a  bully  browbeat  and 
insult  a  weaker  man.  And  in  revenge  for  the  can 
didate's  having  signs  of  age  upon  him,  he  "  paid  him 
off "  personally,  that  Sunday  evening,  and  used  the 
occasion  to  drop  sundry  spiteful  remarks  —  all  of  which 
the  man  took  in  silence,  in  patience  ;  for  he  had  suffered 
much  because  of  this  whitening  of  his  hair,  in  a  pro 
fession  which  too  often  demands  wisdom  and  zeal, 
enthusiasm  and  ripened  experience,  and,  in  short,  all 
the  virtues  of  youth  and  age  combined,  mutually  con 
tradictory  as  such  qualities  usually  are. 

However,  Mr.  Blaney's  reign  was  fast  drawing  toward 
a  close.  He  saw  signs  of  insubordination,  at  times,  and 
disregarded  them  as  long.as  he  could.  But  Mr.  Marshall 
and  Mrs.  Guthrie  each  had  consulted  certain  outside 
leaders,  in  other  churches,  and  had  quietly  suggested 
two  or  three  names.  One  of  these  Mr.  Blaney  had 
reluctantly  allowed  to  fill  the  pulpit  for  a  Sunday ;  and 
was  much  relieved  when,  on  awaking  Sunday  morning, 
he  had  found  a  heavy  rain  falling.  His  experience  had 
taught  him  correctly  that  on  such  a  day  the  spirits  of 
the  congregation  would  be  depressed,  the  entire  service 
would  be  more  or  less  forlorn,  and  the  blame  would  be 


io8  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

laid  on  whatever  minister  happened  to  be  unlucky  enough 
to  occupy  the  pulpit  that  day. 

So  it  resulted,  and  an  excellent  sermon  fell  on  ears 
that  could  not  hear,  and  good  seed  dropped  into  hearts 
which,  that  day,  despite  the  moisture  without,  were  dry 
and  barren.  So  this  really  capable,  effective,  and  earnest 
candidate  went  away,  and  little  interest  in  him  was 
expressed  by  anybody. 

Mr.  Blaney's  reign,  or  regency,  was  drawing  to  a 
close,  nevertheless.  And  the  congregation  was  now  in 
the  condition  which  Mr.  Freeman  had  foreseen.  It 
was  divided  and  subdivided  into  numerous  groups,  each 
of  which  had  "  liked  "  a  particular  candidate,  and  had 
set  its  collective  face  and  its  aggregate  will  against 
every  other  candidate  than  its  own.  Each  group  was 
now  "  lying  low,"  with  more  or  less  patience,  for  the 
end  of  the  list  to  be  reached,  in  order  that  then  it 
might  push  the  claims  of  its  particular  candidate. 

After  considerable  pressure  the  candidating  was  de 
clared  "  over,"  and  a  meeting  of  the  parish  was  called. 
Then  another,  and  another.  And  no  sort  of  agreement 
was  reached.  The  various  groups  were  out  in  full  force, 
and  canvassing  went  forward  with  a  vigor  and  a  publicity 
which  would  have  put  to  shame  any  political  campaign. 
One  energetic  man,  possessed  of  more  vigor  than  taste, 
being  convinced  that  his  favorite  was  really  preferred 
by  a  majority,  if  only  a  full  expression  of  opinion  could 
be  obtained,  sent  out  a  printed  notice  to  every  person 
in  the  parish ;  moreover,  being  possessed  of  no  more 
money  than  of  taste  and  delicacy,  he  sent  the  notice 
on  a  postal  card ;  and  the  public  mails  distributed,  one 
morning,  to  a  hundred  or  more  addresses,  postal  cards, 
asking,  in  large  print :  — 

DO  YOU  VOTE  FOR  REV.  JOHN  JONES  ?     YES  ?  OR  NO  ? 
(Please  mark  with  a  cross  !) 


HUNTING  MINISTERS  109 

Luckily  for  his  peace  of  mind,  the  Rev.  John  Jones 
was  peacefully  and  contentedly  ministering  to  his  flock, 
fifty  miles  away  ;  and,  as  the  enterprising  attempt  failed, 
he  never  heard  of  it.  But  this  brutal  plan  roused  Miss 
Metcalf,  who,  of  all  the  parish  —  Mrs.  Guthrie  excepted 
—  may  be  accredited  with  the  most  refined  and  culti 
vated  standards  of  propriety ;  and  she  straightway  set 
about  a  little  plan  of  her  own,  which  she  had  nourished, 
silently,  for  a  considerable  time.  And  her  plan  it  was 
which  resulted  in  giving  to  Emmanuel  Church  a  pastor  ; 
her  clever  management  brought  about  the  settlement  of 
that  man,  who  proved  to  be  —  what  all  were  so  anxiously 
desiring —  "  A  pulpit  success." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    CONQUERING    HERO    COMES 

"  Time  was  we  stoned  the  prophets,  age  on  age, 
When  men  were  strong  to  save,  the  world  hath  slain  them. 
People  are  wiser,  now  ;  they  waste  no  rage, 
The  prophets  entertain  them." 

—  CHARLOTTE  PERKINS  STETSON. 

IT  had  happened,  a  few  weeks  before  the  holding  of 
the  unfruitful  parish  meetings,  that  Miss  Metcalf  had 
visited  a  friend,  in  a  distant  town,  and  had  remained 
there  over  a  Sunday.  She  had  liked  the  preacher  at 
her  friend's  church  fairly  well,  but,  as  the  day  was  a 
cloudy  one,  and  some  parish  celebration  had  occurred 
on  the  evening  before,  the  pews  of  the  church  were  not 
well  filled,  and  all  present,  in  pew  and  pulpit  and  choir, 
showed  a  lowered  vitality,  which  made  an  unfavorable 
impression  on  the  visitor.  But  after  the  service  she 
had  yielded  to  her  friend's  suggestion  and  had  gone  for 
ward  to  meet  the  minister ;  and  he  had  bowed  low  to 
her  and  had  allowed  a  little  trace  of  admiration  to  show 
itself  in  his  face,  as  she  presented  her  snowy  hair  and 
black  eyes  and  graceful  figure  before  him.  Beyond 
that,  as  they  conversed,  it  transpired  that  he  was  a 
cousin  of  her  mother's  second  cousin,  or  something  of 
that  sort,  and  this  created  a  slender  but  evident  bond 
of  sympathy  between  them. 

Afterward,  on  her  return  home,  as  the  parish  of 
Emmanuel  Church  seemed  unlikely  to  reach  any  agree 
ment  as  to  a  pastor,  Miss  Metcalf  bethought  herself  of 


THE  CONQUERING  HERO  COMES     in 

her  pleasant  interview  with  ,  "  the  cousin  of  her 

mother's  second  cousin,"  and  quietly  resolved  that 
he  should  become  the  minister  of  Emmanuel  Church. 
But  not  through  Mr.  Blaney's  kind  offices!  On  the 
contrary,  she  would  accomplish  it  without  that  gentle 
man's  aid  or  even  direct  approval.  Her  method  of 
management  was  this :  The  next  day  after  the  third 
ineffectual  attempt  of  the  parish  to  choose  from  among 
the  score  or  two  of  candidates,  she  appeared  in  Dr. 
Mixer's  store  and  bought  several  articles  —  among  them 
a  bottle  of  the  "  Emollient."  Also  she  engaged  in  con 
versation  with  "the  Doctor,"  and  inquired  about  the 
meeting.  "  Oh,  my  dear  Miss  Metcalf,"  said  Dr. 
Mixer,  with  as  much  intimacy  as  he  dared  assume, 
"  you  ought  to  have  been  there  ;  it  was  everybody's  duty 
to  be  present."  And  he  beamed  on  her  with  an  approv 
ing  smile,  which  was  intended  to  mitigate  the  disap 
proval  conveyed  in  his  words ;  then  fearing  lest  he 
might  have  been  too  bold,  he  added,  "  We  needed  your 
opinion  and  advice." 

Miss  Metcalf  was  very  prompt  in  replying,  with  a 
graceful  inclination  of  the  head,  "  Oh,  you  know,  Doctor, 
I  never  like  to  meddle  in  church  affairs.  I  am  devoted 
to  the  cause,  of  course ;  but  I  always  leave  matters  of 
administration  to  wiser  heads." 

This  was  interesting,  in  view  of  the  fact,  perfectly 
well  known  to  Dr.  Mixer,  that  the  straight,  tall,  hand 
some  woman,  who  could  seem  so  feminine  and  con 
fidential  and  appealing,  was  the  cleverest  kind  of 
a  manipulator,  in  every  organization  to  which  she  be 
longed,  and  dearly  loved  to  secretly  manage  such  organ 
izations,  without  openly  seeming  to  do  so. 

The  subject  of  candidates  being  now  on  the  carpet, 
Miss  Metcalf  gradually  worked  around  to  the  favorable 
moment,  when  she  could  regret  —  carelessly  and  inad- 


ii2  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

vertently  —  that  the  people  had  not  heard  the  Rev.  Ron 
ald  Carnaquay,  a  distant  relative  of  hers,  who  was  a  very 
fine  preacher  and  a  most  attractive  gentleman  socially. 

"Married?  And  how  much  family?"  inquired  the 
druggist,  succinctly,  as  soon  as  he  realized  that  Miss 
Metcalf  had  a  fixed  interest  in  this  new  discovery  of 
hers. 

"  Oh,  he  isn't  married,  of  course,"  replied  his  visitor, 
with  a  slight  surprise  in  her  tone  ;  though  why  the  "  of 
course  "  came  in  was  an  inviting  thread  of  research  for 
a  trained  psychologist.  Then  she  hastily  added,  "  And 
he  hasn't  any  family,  either ;"  which  somewhat  super 
fluous  remark  brought  a  sudden  tint  of  color  to  her  pale 
cheeks,  and  appreciably  enhanced  her  severe  beauty. 

There  was  a  "  touchiness  "  —  as  Dr.  Mixer  translated 
it  to  himself  —  a  "touchiness"  on  Miss  Metcalf 's  part 
regarding  this  new  man,  which  showed  the  proprie 
tor  of  the  famous  "  Emollient "  how  firmly  her  mind 
was  made  up ;  and  he  mentally  ranged  himself  on  her 
side,  and  outwardly  agreed  to  "  speak  to  two  or  three 
of  the  parish  committee  about  the  matter."  At  this, 
Miss  Metcalf  charmingly  took  alarm,  and  "  feared  that 
she  had  said  too  much  ;  "  and  straightway  begged  Dr. 
Mixer  to  do  nothing  about  it,  at  least  at  present.  This 
he  promised,  and  mentioned  it  an  hour  later  to  Mr. 
Marshall,  whom  he  met  at  the  bank.  Miss  Metcalf,  on 
her  way  home,  did  precisely  as  Dr.  Mixer  knew  she 
would  do;  she  broached  the  subject  to  two  friends, 
and,  later  in  the  day,  in  a  factitious  note  to  Mrs. 
Matilda  Fifield,  also  casually  referred  to  her  distant 
clerical  relative. 

Thus  was  the  proper  machinery  set  in  motion  ;  and 
in  two  days  the  entire  parish  was  gossiping  and  conjec 
turing  about  the  talented  unknown  preacher,  and  -every 
body  was  desirous  of  hearing  him.  A  few  more  days 


THE   CONQUERING   HERO   COMES  113 

passed,  and  a  letter  went  to  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay 
from  Dr.  Mixer,  "  Chairman  of  the  Parish  Committee," 
inviting  him  to  do  Emmanuel  Church  the  great  favor  of 
supplying  its  pulpit  for  a  Sunday,  if  entirely  convenient 
for  him. 

Convenient  enough  it  was,  but  not  expedient ;  for  the 
worldly-wise  man  knew  the  value  of  "holding  off"  a 
little.  So  he  replied  with  a  very  elaborate  letter,  in 
which  he  explained  how  highly  honored  he  felt  by  the 
invitation,  but  sundry  important  duties  prevented  his 
complying  with  it  at  present.  This  letter  was  followed 
by  another  a  week  later,  —  Emmanuel  Church  mean 
while  rising  to  a  higher  pitch  of  expectancy,  —  in  which 
he  intimated  that  on  the  second  Sunday  following  he 
could  arrange,  with  some  difficulty,  "  owing  to  his 
great  pressure  of  work,"  to  be  with  them,  "  the  Lord 
permitting." 

Agreed !  And  the  date  was  settled,  the  days  passed, 
all  other  candidates  were  ignored,  and  the  entire  con 
gregation  was  united,  for  the  first  time  in  six  months, 
in  the  embrace  of  one  emotion  —  in  its  curiosity,  its 
hopeful  curiosity,  regarding  this  "brilliant"  pulpit 
orator. 

The  exciting  Sunday  arrived,  and  so  did  Mr.  Carnaquay. 
He  was  entertained  by  Miss  Metcalf,  and  he  accom 
panied  her  to  church.  Certainly  he  was  impressive  in 
appearance,  as  he  gazed  unconcernedly  out  over  the 
impatiently  curious  congregation.  He  was  a  man  of 
between  thirty  and  forty  years  of  age,  tall,  dark,  with 
coarse  black  hair,  rather  long ;  large,  black,  piercing 
eyes,  an  aquiline  nose,  —  giving  him  a  sharp,  arrowy- 
looking  face,  —  and  was  active  and  confident  in  all  his 
movements.  He  read  the  Bible  and  hymns  in  a  free 
and  almost  nonchalant  way,  with  a  clear  ringing  voice. 

So    far    he    was    "acceptable,"    though    not   by   any 


H4 

means  so  remarkable  as  many  had  been  led  to  expect. 
Several  felt  a  little  disappointed ;  but  all  believed  that 
the  "  brilliant  man  "  had  unsuspected  reserves. 

He  had.  Nobody  knew  better  than  did  the  much- 
heralded  man,  the  reactionary  force  there  is  in  too 
much  praise  and  too  high  a  state  of  expectancy ;  but 
he  had  never  yet  failed  to  meet  an  emergency,  from 
any  undue  timidity  or  from  inconvenient  scruples. 
When  the  time  for  the  sermon  came,  he  reached  into 
his  pocket,  drew  out  a  manuscript,  glanced  at  it,  looked 
again  earnestly  at  it,  then  gazed  at  it  and  at  the 
congregation  with  seeming  perplexity;  then  slowly  put 
it  back  into  his  pocket,  and  an  expression  of  firm  pur 
pose  came  into  his  face,  so  plainly  that  all  could  see  it. 
(At  least,  he  intended  that  all  should  see  it ;  if  they  did 
not,  it  was  not  his  fault.) 

"  My  dear  friends,"  he  presently  said,  speaking  very 
slowly  and  seriously,  "  I  regret  exceedingly  to  come 
before  you,  at  this  time,  with  an  explanation,  an  apol 
ogy  upon  my  lips ;  but  necessity  compels  me  to  entire 
frankness,  and  I  am  obliged  to  inform  you  that  in 
the  hurry  of  departure  from  my  home,  owing  to  the 
pressing  character  of  my  last  few  engagements,  I  put 
into  my  pocket,  by  mistake,  a  wrong  paper,  an  address 
prepared  for  the  Northwestern  Annual  Conference,  — 
and  which  I  had  the  honor  to  deliver  before  that  au 
gust  assemblage,  a  month  ago.  I  find  myself,  therefore, 
before  you,  without  any  prepared  sermon ;  and  I  must 
throw  myself  upon  your  kind  indulgence  and  sympathy." 

Here,  many  faces,  which  had  been  lengthening  per 
ceptibly,  grew  almost  melancholy,  in  pity  and  regret ; 
and  the  man  in  the  pulpit,  whom  nothing  ever  escaped 
that  was  worth  his  notice,  saw  that  he  had  turned  the 
flank  of  their  attacking  line  of  criticism,  and  "  had  them 
on  the  run,"  as  the  free  military  phrase  puts  it.  He 


THE   CONQUERING  HERO  COMES  115 

knew  that  he  now  had,  in  a  small  degree,  perhaps,  their 
condemnation,  but  in  a  far  larger  degree,  their  sym 
pathy  ;  and  in  either  case,  whichever  of  these  emotions 
occupied  their  various  minds,  their  aggressive,  critical 
attitude  was  eliminated. 

"  I  must  throw  myself  upon  your  kind  indulgence 
and  sympathy,  while  I  recall,  as  well  as  I  can,  some 
recent  sermon."  Here  his  mobile  face  changed  from 
an  expression  of  mild  entreaty  to  one  which  conveyed 
a  thoughtful,  earnest  attempt  at  recollecting  one  of 
those  recent  sermons.  For  a  moment  he  stood  motion 
less,  with  head  slightly  bowed.  Most  auditors  thought 
he  was  engaged  in  an  effort  of  memory ;  some  thought 
he  was  engaged  in  prayer.  Presently  he  lifted  his 
head,  and  said,  with  just  a  little  resignation  showing 
through  his  well-modulated  tones,  "  I  will  simply  talk  to 
you,  as  best  I  can,  under  the  unpleasant  circumstances, 
regarding  the  suggestive  words  of  our  Saviour  to  his 
apostles,  as  he  sent  them  forth  to  preach  his  gospel." 
And,  with  that  preface,  he  began  his  sermon.  And  there 
can  be  no  very  great  breach  of  confidence  in  saying  here 
that  the  sermon  was  exactly  the  one  he  had  intended  to 
preach,  was  one  that  he  had  preached  several  times 
before,  and  was  fixed  in  his  trained  and  retentive  mem 
ory  like  printed  words  on  the  page  of  a  book.  It  had 
been  revised  and  enriched,  with  each  delivery,  until  its 
Macaulayan  sentences  were  extremely  smooth  and  well 
balanced,  and  it  abounded  in  epigrammatic  expressions. 
He  began  it  in  a  halting  and  somewhat  broken  man 
ner,  as  one  might  be  expected  to  do  if  he  were  recalling, 
with  effort,  some  partly  memorized  material ;  but  that 
hesitation  of  manner,  having  accomplished  what  was 
intended  in  the  way  of  illusion,  was  soon  laid  aside, 
and  the  speaker  grew  more  animated.  He  pictured 
the  conditions  of  the  world  at  the  time  of  the  apostles' 


n6  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

departure,  and  the  powers  and  probabilities  which  were 
against  it ;  he  portrayed  the  mediocre  natural  faculties 
and  the  misgivings  which  those  apostles  must  have  had  ; 
then  he  passed  to  a  review  of  the  progress  achieved  by 
the  new  religion,  its  slow  but  sure  conquest  of  the  world, 
the  saints  it  had  made,  the  martyrs  it  had  inspired.  And 
finally  he  pictured  the  future,  as  Christianity  should 
spread  over  all  lands,  and  the  cross  of  Christ  supplant 
all  other  symbols,  and  every  knee  bow  gladly  at  the 
mention  of  the  Saviour's  holy  name. 

There  could  be  no  question  that  the  sermon  was  a 
good  one —  "  a  splendid  effort"  ;  and  the  congregation 
sat  spell-bound  and  delighted.  There  was  little  or 
nothing  in  it  which  was  likely  to  affect  Mr.  Blaney  when 
he  was  disposed  to  say  a  mean  thing  about  a  friend, 
and  nothing  that  would  probably  occur  to  Dr.  Mixer 
as  he  filled  orders  for  his  sham  "  Emollient."  But  that 
was  entirely  aside  from  the  purpose  of  the  pre^her  and 
from  the  desire  of  the  congregation.  The  congiegation 
wished  to  be  entertained  and  occasionally  thrilled ;  and 
the  preacher  had  set  himself  the  task  of  doing  just  that, 
and  he  had  succeeded.  To  both  parties  interested, 
that  comprised  "pulpit  success";  and  it  was  achieved 
that  day.  To  be  sure  there  were  some  striking  and 
even  startling  methods  used.  The  speaker  moved  about 
very  freely,  from  one  part  of  the  platform  to  another, 
and  even  might  have  been  said  by  the  unsympathetic 
—  if  such  had  been  present  —  to  "leap"  from  one  side 
to  the  other  of  the  pulpit  or  reading-desk.  There  was 
no  lack  of  dramatic  treatment,  either,  as  the  preacher 
gave,  verbatim,  sentences  which  he  fancied  to  have 
fallen  from  the  lips  of  various  historic  personages, 
introduced  at  appropriate  points  in  the  discourse. 
Taken  all  together,  it  was  as  dramatic  a  portrayal  as  it 
could  well  have  been,  lacking  scenery  and  properties, 


THE   CONQUERING   HERO   COMES  117 

and  with  no  accompaniment  of  "  slow  music."  And  it 
was  given  with  a  fluency  and  confidence  which  aroused 
a  slight  suspicion  in  one  or  two  of  the  more  discerning 
listeners,  like  Miss  Metcalf  and  Mrs.  Guthrie ;  but  by 
the  vast  majority  it  was  received  as  a  masterpiece  of 
inspired  improvisation. 

Dr.  Mixer,  however,  was  not  a  man  to  be  wholly 
carried  off  his  feet  by  the  clever  performance,  and  he 
saw  that  the  hour  had  come  for  a  quick,  decisive  stroke. 
At  the  close  of  the  sermon,  the  preacher  offered  a  brief 
and  eloquent  address  to  the  Deity,  and  then  gave  out 
the  closing  hymn.  As  the  congregation  rose  to  sing, 
Dr.  Mixer  made  two  quick  journeys  and  held  two  quick 
conferences.  He  crossed  over  to  Miss  Metcalf,  and  they 
spoke  a  few  words  to  each  other ;  then  he  went  along 
to  Mr.  Blaney's  pew,  and  addressed  a  few  words  to  him. 
The  result  of  these  hurried  interviews  was  seen  when 
Mr.  Blaney  walked  forward,  with  vast  dignity  of  de 
meanor  and  huge  responsibility  pictured  on  his  face, 
and,  at  the  close  of  the  benediction  and  before  the 
organ  could  begin  playing,  he  addressed  the  congre 
gation.  He  asked  them  to  seat  themselves  that  they 
might  transact  a  matter  of  important  business. 

This  was  done  ;  and  the  reverend  performer  on  the 
platform  walked  slowly,  and  with  no  surprise  evident 
in  his  face,  from  the  pulpit,  and  disappeared  in  the 
waiting-room  behind.  Then  there  was  a  stream  of  ful 
some  praise  from  Mr.  Blaney,  ending  in  the  suggestion 
that  the  congregation  then  and  there  extend  a  call  to 
the  Reverend  Ronald  Carnaquay.  The  suggestion  met 
instant  and  hearty  approval,  and  a  unanimous  rising 
vote  testified  to  the  persuasive  power  of  skilful  oratory 
and  clever  management,  and  Emmanuel  Church,  as  a 
whole,  was  again  united  in  thought  and  feeling  and 
will. 


n8  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

This  practically  settled  the  matter  of  a  choice  of  pas 
tor  ;  although  there  were  still  several  technicalities  to  be 
duly  met.  One  was  the  gaining  the  acceptance,  from 
Mr.  Carnaquay,  of  this  "  sudden  and  altogether  unex 
pected  call."  That  was  the  spirit  in  which  he  met  the 
group  of  admiring  people  who  rushed  into  the  waiting- 
room  to  shake  hands  with  him.  He  very  much  desired 
the  "  call,"  and  certainly  had  "  campaigned  "  cleverly  to 
get  it ;  but  a  too  ready  acquiescence  in  the  demand  for 
him  was  not  as  he  had  planned.  He  knew  too  well  the 
desirability  of  being  "  difficult  to  obtain."  Then,  too, 
there  was  the  matter  of  salary.  He  knew,  to  a  dollar, 
what  his  predecessor  had  been  paid,  and  was  calmly  re 
solved  to  be  paid  at  least  five  hundred  dollars  more  than 
that  amount.  So  he  was  very  gracious,  very  fatigued, 
highly  honored,  and  all  the  rest,  but  he  stiffly  refused  to 
utter  the  monosyllable  which  all  so  eagerly  desired.  He 
begged  to  be  excused  from  deciding  so  weighty  a  matter 
in  a  hasty  way,  murmured  something  about  giving  the 
subject  his  "  prayerful  consideration,"  finally  intimated 
that  he  did  not  care  to  prolong  the  interview,  and  went 
away  triumphantly,  with  Miss  Metcalf,  to  eat  a  good 
dinner,  and  to  carefully  reflect  upon  his  next  move. 

As  for  that  somewhat  elderly  but  extremely  well-pre 
served  and  effective  spinster,  she  was  outwardly  calm 
and  quietly  sympathetic,  but  inwardly  in  a  state  of  flut 
tering  delight.  Not  only  was  she  gratified  at  having 
her  plan  succeed  so  admirably,  but  the  Rev.  Ronald 
Carnaquay  was  proving  himself,  as  her  guest,  a  very 
agreeable  person.  He  was  certainly  a  handsome  man, 
of  a  bold  type,  and  he  knew  how  to  say  many  interesting 
things.  He  was  very  appreciative,  too,  of  her  extremely 
well-chosen  and  daintily  served  dinner ;  being  by  no 
means  the  ascetic  individual  which  his  somewhat  thin 
figure  indicated.  Moreover,  although  the  relationship 


THE    CONQUERING   HERO   COMES  119 

between  them  was  of  a  very  remote  and  attenuated  sort, 
it  was  something  ;  and  Miss  Metcalf,  having  formed  the 
habit  earlier  in  life,  before  her  snowy  charms  had  fully 
blossomed,  of  emphasizing  the  worth  of  "  family,"  could 
not  readily  discard  that  attitude  of  mind.  Ronald  Car- 
naquay  quickly  discerned  this  predilection  of  hers,  and 
he  was  very  ready  to  gratify  it  to  the  full ;  and  the  two 
made  rapid  strides  in  their  newly  discovered  relation 
ship,  Miss  Metcalf  even  mentioning  him  to  the  cook  as 
her  cousin. 

Again,  she  herself  was  no  inexperienced  person  in 
the  social  arts,  and  lost  no  time  in  conveying  to  him  her 
great  pleasure  in  listening  to  his  admirable  sermon,  and 
her  unbounded  hope  that  he  would  see  it  to  be  his  duty 
to  accept  the  call  so  flatteringly  bestowed.  In  talking 
with  her  he  made  not  the  slightest  reference  to  such 
base  subjects  as  salaries  and  debts  and  changes  of  popu 
lation  and  neighboring  churches,  but  reserved  these  very 
serious  matters  for  that  conference  with  official  repre 
sentatives  of  the  parish,  which  he  knew  would  eventually 
come. 

And  such  a  conference  did  come.  That  evening 
Messrs.  Mixer,  Marshall,  and  Blaney  appeared,  were 
shown  in ;  and,  with  Miss  Metcalf  and  her  guest,  a  half 
hour  passed  in  very  sympathetic  conversation.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  Dr.  Mixer  cleared  his  throat  signifi 
cantly,  made  one  or  two  vain  attempts  to  cross  his  fat, 
podgy  legs,  and  began,  in  his  husky  whisper,  "  We  had 
an  idea,  Mr.  Carnaquay,  that  it  would  not  —  would  not 
seem  —  er  —  unseasonable  to  you,  even  though  the  day 
is  the  Sabbath,  to  —  er  —  talk  with  you  a  little  about  — 
er  —  about  the  question  of  —  of  —  er  —  salary." 

A  mild  expression  of  surprise  at  once  was  visible  on 
the  reverend  gentleman's  face,  although  he  had  been 
momentarily  expecting  the  subject  to  be  broached, 


120  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

ever  since  the  first  evening  greetings  had  been 
exchanged. 

At  this  mention  of  "  salary,"  Miss  Metcalf  made  a 
very  pretty  show  of  being  ill  at  ease,  and  then  exclaimed, 
with  a  delicate  shyness  which  quite  equalled  Carna- 
quay's  bit  of  facial  work  :  "  Oh,  then  I  must  be  excused  ; 
I  really  must.  Such  matters  are  entirely  outside  my 
province.  You  will  excuse  me,  won't  you  ?  "  And  she 
rose,  and  smilingly  and  gracefully  swept  out  of  the 
room. 

This  departure  simplified  a  little  the  complicated 
emotions  and  interests  of  the  situation,  and  the  subject 
of  salary  was  cautiously  developed  by  Dr.  Mixer,  sup 
ported  occasionally  by  Mr.  Blaney.  Mr.  Marshall,  who 
had  uttered  no  more  than  shy  monosyllables,  since  his 
entrance,  added  now  and  then  a  nod,  when  appealed 
to  by  Dr.  Mixer.  The  conversation  was  of  a  delicate 
character,  as  Dr.  Mixer  knew  it  would  be ;  for  he  had 
rightly  surmised  that  the  reverend  gentleman  was  the 
kind  of  man  who  would  be  fully  able  to  look  after  his 
own  temporal  and  financial  interests.  So  he  was  not 
surprised  when  Mr.  Carnaquay,  after  making  various 
inquiries  which  showed  plenty  of  worldly  shrewdness, 
underneath  the  somewhat  Scriptural  language  in  which 
they  were  couched,  suggested  a  certain  sum  as  the 
lowest  possible  amount  which  would  be  "  considered  " 
by  him,  in  case  he  found,  on  reflection  and  consultation 
in  his  own  parish,  that  his  duty  "  led  "  him  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Emmanuel  Church. 

There  was  no  shaking  him  from  this  position,  calmly 
taken  and  coolly  adhered  to.  Side  questions,  like  the 
prospective  growth  of  their  quarter  of  the  town,  the 
standing  debt  on  the  church,  the  "  drawing  capacity  "  of 
neighboring  preachers,  and  similar  vital  topics  —  these 
were  allowed  to  enter,  at  times ;  but  whenever  a  return 


THE   CONQUERING   HERO   COMES  121 

was  made  to  the  central  theme  of  "  how  much  salary," 
there  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay  was  imperturbable  and 
almost  indifferent,  but  not  at  all  yielding.  The  sum 
named  by  him  was  five  hundred  dollars  in  advance  of 
Mr.  Freeman's  salary,  and  certainly,  as  they  knew,  it 
had  been  hard  to  raise  that.  Now,  with  this  additional 
amount,  what  was  to  be  done  ? 

At  last,  having  reached  no  definite  agreement,  but 
having  wasted  a  great  deal  of  breath  in  useless,  though 
ingenious  pleading,  Dr.  Mixer,  with  smiles  and  good 
wishes,  rose  to  depart.  The  other  visitors  followed ; 
and,  after  a  general  shaking  of  hands,  Mr.  Carnaquay, 
quite  clear  that  he  would  hear  from  them  in  a  few  days 
(and  "  at  his  own  figure  "),  went  softly  up  to  bed,  and 
"slept  the  sleep  of  the"  -  well,  of  those  persons  who 
have  few  sensibilities  and  but  little  conscience. 


CHAPTER    IX 

A    CHILD    OF    NATURE 

"  Nor  knowest  thou  what  argument 
Thy  life  to  thy  neighbor's  creed  hath  lent." 

—  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 

ALTHOUGH  only  a  mile  separated  Lawrence  Freeman 
and  his  wife  from  Emmanuel  Church,  he  was  often  sur 
prised  to  find  how  remote,  in  interest,  the  affairs  of  that 
parish  seemed.  Although  he  was  concerned  that  his 
former  church  should  wisely  choose  a  pastor,  and  al 
ways  looked  in  the  newspaper,  the  first  of  the  week,  to 
know  who  had  preached  for  them  on  Sunday,  yet  his 
own  little  world  was  such  a  different  one,  and  his  duties 
were  so  engrossing  —  yes,  and  so  interesting- — -that 
Emmanuel  Church  seemed  to  him  like  a  church  in  some 
other  city. 

There  was  a  reality  about  his  work,  now,  which 
before  he  had  sadly  missed.  Emmanuel  Church  was 
made  up  largely  of  people  who  were  quite  comfortable 
in  the  possession  of  ample  incomes ;  and  his  duties 
among  them,  except  on  Sundays  and  in  the  preparation 
for  public  services  of  worship,  had  been  too  nearly  of  an 
honorary  and  perfunctory  character  to  be  satisfactory 
to  his  robust  and  earnest  nature.  He  had  been  led  into 
the  ministry  by  the  deep  desire  of  his  heart  to  "  minis 
ter  "  to  real  human  needs  ;  but  what  could  he  do  for 
four-fifths  of  Emmanuel  parish  ?  Little  of  deep  signifi 
cance.  Many  hours  a  week  were  consumed  in  making 

122 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  123 

formal  calls  upon  people  who  gained  little  from  his  calls 
except  relief  from  ennui,  and  they  desired  no  more  ; 
and  the  dinners  and  teas  which  he  attended  were  pleas 
ant  enough,  but  such  occasions  rarely  called  forth  the 
deeper  notes  in  his  life,  and  would  have  been  as  com 
plete  without  him,  a  minister  of  Christ,  as  with  him. 
Occasionally,  of  course,  there  were  cases  of  real  need. 
Sorrfe  sick  person,  or  some  accident  or  death  in  a  family  : 
then  he  was  a  source  of  genuine  help,  and  those  need 
ing  him  found  him  a  tower  of  strength. 

Those  situations,  however,  were  exceptions.  The  rule 
was  —  a  large  absorption  of  his  time  in  purely  social 
duties,  which,  although  real,  were  not  of  the  kind  that 
had  drawn  him  into  his  profession.  What  could  he  do 
for  such  persons  as  Miss  Metcalf  and  Dr.  Mixer  and 
scores  of  others  like  them  ?  They  were  lifted  above  the 
menaces  of  the  great,  fierce  needs  of  life.  A  fluctuation 
in  stocks  might  lower  Miss  Metcalf's  income  a  few  dol 
lars  per  annum,  or  a  business  failure  or  an  accident 
might  cost  Dr.  Mixer  a  thousand  or  two  dollars,  but 
such  people  as  they  were  not  likely  to  know  fear  con 
cerning  food  or  clothing  or  shelter.  Whereas  now,  all 
about  him  —  and  more  and  more  appealingly,  as  these 
plain  people  grew  to  know  and  trust  him  —  the  stern 
realities  of  human  needs  came  home  to  his  heart.  These 
human  beings,  many  of  them,  were  always  dwelling 
in  unrest,  like  the  creatures  of  the  forest,  knowing  that, 
at  any  moment,  some  event  might  throw  them  on  the 
wrong  side  of  that  "  dead  line,"  which  was  forever  in 
clear  view.  And  although  there  was  much  that  was 
repugnant  to  him,  and  much  that  saddened  him,  in  his 
surroundings,  yet  he  was  positively  happy  in  the  glad 
consciousness  that  he  was  actually  "  ministering,"  actu 
ally  "serving"  these  forlorn  victims  of  their  own  igno 
rance  and  of  inexorable  social  and  physical  laws. 


i24  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

So  the  fact  that  Emmanuel  Church,  after  its  long 
pernicious  period  of  indiscriminate  candidating,  did 
finally  call  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay  —  at  the  salary 
named  by  that  gentleman,  —  this  made  little  stir  in  the 
life  of  Lawrence  Freeman  and  his  wife.  He  learned 
about  the  decision  in  this  way.  He  and  his  wife  met 
one  morning,  over  their  coffee  and  rolls.  He  had  over 
slept,  for  he  had  been  the  evening  before,  until  a  late 
hour,  in  a  home  where  a  little  child  had  died  of  diph 
theria.  There  he  had  given  moral  and  spiritual  support, 
and  even  manual  aid,  to  the  distracted  family.  All 
efforts  had  failed  to  hold  back  the  pale  little  sufferer 
from  her  journey  out  into  the  Unseen ;  and  the  most 
effective  service  which  Lawrence  Freeman  had  rendered 
was  this  :  he  had  implanted,  deep  in  the  hearts  of  that 
agonized  mother  and  father,  an  unquenchable  faith  in 
human  kindness  and  helpfulness.  That  was  a  great 
deal,  however,  and  is,  after  all,  the  vital  leaven  of  ethical 
impulse  and  Christian  power,  from  which  must  come  the 
regeneration  of  the  world. 

Lawrence  sat  silently  eating  his  roll  and  sipping 
his  coffee,  when  his  wife,  reading  the  morning  paper, 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  then  read  aloud, 
"  Emmanuel  Church  has  called  to  its  pastorate  the 
Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay,  D.D.,  the  talented  preacher 
who  recently  officiated  in  its  pulpit ;  and  it  is  to  be  con 
gratulated  upon  its  success  in  obtaining  this  brilliant 
pulpit  orator." 

Freeman  paused,  with  coffee-cup  in  air,  halfway  to 
his  lips.  The  look  of  surprise  on  his  face  increased, 
until  it  surpassed  that  which  was  evident  on  his  wife's 
countenance.  Then  this  expression  of  amazement  was 
replaced  by  a  look  of  vast  amusement,  and  he  drained 
the  cup,  exclaiming,  with  a  laugh,  "  Here's  to  his  health, 
and  the  prosperity  of  Emmanuel  Church  !  " 


A   CHILD    OF   NATURE  125 

Mrs.  Freeman  saw  him  fall  into  a  gay  mood  like  this, 
much  oftener  now  than  when  he  was  the  harassed  min 
ister  over  his  former  parish.  There  was  really  a  large 
vein  of  humor  in  the  man,  which  showed  itself  in  these 
days,  as  his  wife  had  not  seen  it  during  several  years 
past;  and  she  inwardly  gave  thanks,  many  times  in  a 
week,  for  the  crisis  in  Emmanuel  Church  affairs,  which 
had  thrown  them  into  their  more  natural  and  very  gen 
uine  field  of  work.  She  now  looked  at  him  inquiringly 
and  asked,  "  Do  you  know  this  man  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  do."  And  then  a  touch  of  seriousness 
came  over  him.  "  I  am  not  sure,  however,  that  he  will 
not  be  just  the  man  for  them.  Yes,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  it  may  turn  out  so.  But  it  is  queer.  It  is  a  capital 
turn  of  the  wheel  of  fortune." 

Of  course  there  was  no  other  course  but  to  explain 
to  his  wife  his  laughter  and  his  reflections ;  and  while 
Mrs.  Freeman  gathered  up  and  washed  their  few  dishes, 
and  put  away  the  remains  of  their  breakfast,  Lawrence 
told  her  about  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay. 

"  I  knew  him,"  said  he,  "  in  the  theological  seminary, 
years  ago.  He  took  a  very  brief  course  there.  He  had 
already  been  in  business  life,  several  years,  but  had  come 
into  the  ministry  in  this  way.  He  was,  at  first,  a  com 
mercial  traveller  for  a  dry-goods  house.  He  was  active 
and  shrewd,  and  a  good  talker,  and,  I  was  told,  did  very 
well  for  his  house.  Gradually  he  got  into  the  way  of 
investing  in  real  estate,  and  there  also  he  made  money. 
In  the  pursuit  of  that  line  of  business  he  became  inter 
ested  in  a  small  wooden  church  in  W ,  which  was  in 

a  bad  way,  financially,  and  had  been  closed  for  a  con 
siderable  time.  There  was  some  clause  in  the  deed,  or 
will,  which  would  take  the  church  property  out  of  the 
society's  hands  and  throw  it  back  into  the  hands  of  cer 
tain  heirs,  unless  a  public  service,  with  preaching,  were 


126  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

held  in  the  building,  before  a  particular  date.  Learning 
about  this,  Carnaquay  urged  that  the  church  be  opened 
and  a  service  held ;  but  the  lukewarm  remnants  of  the 
parish  took  very  little  interest  in  the  suggestion,  and  one 
member  of  the  committee  remarked,  '  All  very  well  to 
say,  but  who's  going  to  preach  ?  We  can't  pay  enough  to 
make  it  worth  while.'  This  statement  seems  to  have  been 
taken  as  if  it  had  been  a  challenge,  by  the  quick-witted, 
voluble,  young  commercial  traveller ;  and  he  promptly 
replied  that  if  they  would  attend  to  getting  a  congrega 
tion,  he  would  see  that  the  pulpit  was  filled  ;  and  he  added, 
that  he  could  preach,  himself,  if  he  wished  to.  So  the 
news  went  out  that  Carnaquay,  the  shrewd  and  not  over 
scrupulous  dealer  in  real  estate,  would  preach,  on  a  cer 
tain  date,  in  the  long-closed  church.  And  he  did  so  ;  and, 
needless  to  say,  he  had  a  large  congregation,  somewhat 
to  his  surprise." 

"  No  need  for  surprise,"  remarked  Mrs.  Freeman, 
dryly. 

"  Well,  he  was  surprised,  as  he  afterward  admitted ; 
but  he  never  had  known  what  diffidence  was,  and  he  did 
not  weaken,  under  this  unusual  pressure.  He  appeared 
in  the  pulpit,  conducted  the  service,  preached  the  ser 
mon  —  and  even  offered  the  prayer.  As  to  that  last,  I 
have  no  knowledge;  but  the  gossip  of  the  seminary, 
regarding  the  sermon,  was  that  he  talked  in  an  easy  and 
interesting  way,  taking  a  text,  and  using  a  'first'  and 
'  secondly '  and  '  thirdly,'  and  the  congregation,  which 
had  gathered  out  of  amusement,  voted  him  a  '  mighty 
smart  preacher '  and  wished  he  would  preach  again 
the  next  Sunday.  He  did  so,  and  kept  on  preaching, 
and  got  the  society  reorganized,  and  made  it  into  a 
flourishing  body." 

"  It  all  shows,"  remarked  Mrs.  Freeman,  in  her  half- 
sarcastic,  half-indulgent  way,  "what  I  have  always  said, 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  127 

that  a  man  like  you,  with  sensitiveness  and  high  ideals, 
was  thereby  unfitted  for  the  clerical  profession,  in  these 
mercantile  days." 

Her  husband  smiled,  and  raised  a  remonstrative  fore 
finger. 

"  There  are  churches  —  and  churches,"  he  said.  "We 
must  remember  that."  Then,  after  a  moment,  he  con 
tinued  :  "  Well,  Carnaquay  had  really  found  the  thing  he 
most  liked  to  do  ;  and  that  was  to  talk.  Nature  had 
made  him  a  talker ;  this  foreordination  and  predestina 
tion  of  his  for  talking  had  been  only  half  fulfilled  in  his 
vocation  as  a  drummer,  because,  you  see,  he  could  talk 
only  a  part  of  the  time;  the  man  to  whom  he  was  sell 
ing  goods  often  wanted  a  little  time  to  say  something 
himself.  And  Carnaquay  must  have  learned  how  to 
hold  in,  because  he  did  actually  sell  goods,  with  great 
effectiveness.  But  to  stop  and  let  his  customer  have 
the  floor  must  have  been  a  cross  to  him  ;  he  really  wished 
to  do  all  the  talking.  And  now,  as  a  preacher,  he  found 
a  free  field,  nobody  talking  back,  no  questions  asked,  no 
person  breaking  in  with  suggestions.  So  he  straightway 
resolved  to  give  up  travelling  and  become  an  out-and- 
out  preacher,  and  he  did ;  but  he  has  always  held  on  to 
some  of  his  investments,  and  doubtless  does  so  now. 
As  to  his  studies  in  divinity,  they  were  very  slender. 
Oh,  how  many  times  we  fellows  used  to  laugh  at  him,  as 
he  rushed  into  some  lecture  and  made  a  great  show  of 
taking  notes,  but  really  occupied  himself  —  much  of  the 
hour  —  in  figuring  interest  on  notes,  and  in  plotting  out 
lots  of  land  which  were  involved  in  some  new  specula 
tion." 

Freeman  found  great  amusement  in  his  recollec 
tions,  and  sat  silent,  for  several  moments,  with  a  smile 
on  his  face.  "  How  long  did  he  study  in  the  seminary  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Freeman.  "  And  how  about  that  '  D.D  '  ?  " 


j28  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

"  Oh,  those  degrees  are  always  easy  enough  to  man 
age,"  replied  her  husband.  "  His  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Divinity  was  said  to  have  come  from  a  weak  little  acad 
emy  in  Iowa,  which  called  itself  a  college,  or  even  uni 
versity,  and  conferred  degrees  upon  almost  any  preacher, 
on  condition  that  he  pay  fifty  dollars  for  the  diploma 
and  '  expenses.'  Transparent  enough  the  whole  scheme  ! 
But  it  is  sometimes  done  by  clergymen,  and  is  tech 
nically  and  legally  sound." 

"Valuable  parchment,  that !"  interjected  Mrs.  Free 
man.  "  I  am  glad  that  you  cannot  afford  it." 

"  The  title  is  his,  however,  and  he  never  allows  it  to 
slip  out  of  notice.  As  to  his  stay  in  the  seminary,  it 
was  not  longer  than  six  months,  at  the  most.  He  didn't 
care  for  any  thorough  study  of  divinity;  he  simply 
wished  to  learn  how  to  use  a  concordance,  and  to  know 
which  end  of  a  Hebrew  Bible  to  begin  at.  It  was  the 
name  of  the  thing  that  was  his  object;  to  be  able  to 

say  that  he  studied  at  the  X Seminary,  or  to  refer 

casually  to  the  time  '  when  I  was  in  the  theological 
seminary.'  Anyhow,  he  has  great  talent  in  popular, 
sensational  speaking,  and  Emmanuel  Church  may  find 
him  just  what  it  wishes." 

"  I  am  a  little  surprised  to  hear  you  say  that,"  Mrs. 
Freeman  remarked,  pausing  in  her  work.  "  I  don't 
believe  that  a  really  bad  man  will  be  acceptable  in  that 
parish;  there  are  too  many  —  " 

"  Ah,  but  you  have  misunderstood  me,"  interrupted 
her  husband,  more  earnestly.  "  I  see  that  I  haven't 
given  you  exactly  the  impression  about  Carnaquay  that 
I  intended ;  he  is,  however,  a  rather  complex  type. 
My  dear,  he  is  not  a  wicked,  immoral  man,  not  con 
sciously  so ;  he  is  simply  an  active,  alert,  ambitious, 
voluble  man,  without  any  A  perceptions  whatever  of  the 
finer  constraints  of  life,  aricl  the  higher  demands  of  his 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  129 

present  vocation.  He  is  not  immoral,  as  I  have  always 
read  him,  but  //amoral ;  he  would  be  really  astonished 
to  be  told  that  he  was  dishonest,  in  any  way.  He  is 
simply  a  clever,  commercial  traveller,  turned  preacher, 
and  applying  the  same  shrewd  arts  to  his  new  vocation 
which  he  formerly  applied  to  his  old  one.  He  is 
honestly  after  —  not  money  —  but  fame,  and  the  per 
sonal  pleasure  of  addressing  the  public ;  that  last  is  a 
great  joy  to  him.  He  really  intends  to  fulfil  all  the 
requirements  of  his  new  profession ;  and  he  does  so,  so 
far  as  he  sees  them.  He  is  a  kind-hearted  fellow,  when 
he  can  be  roused  from  his  egotism ;  a  suffering  person 
can  appeal  confidently  to  him ;  but  his  great  aim  is, 
now  as  formerly,  to  '  play  the  game.'  He  has  started 
to  be  a  successful  preacher,  and  he  spares  no  effort, 
neglects  no  helpful  accessories,  which  will  advance  his 
plans.  But  there  !  I  will  say  no  more  about  him.  You 
must  go  and  see  him  in  the  pulpit.  I  heard  him  '  per 
form  '  twice,  several  years  ago.  It  is  at  least  interest 
ing,  yes,  and  instructive.  Just  take  him  humorously, 
my  dear,  that  is  all.  Take  him  as  a  spectacle,  a  bit  of 
comedy !  "  And  Freeman  laughingly  arose  and  went 
over  to  the  bookcase. 

"  I  am  looking,"  said  he,  after  a  few  moments'  search, 
"for  a  copy  of  John  Fiske's  'Destiny  of  Man.'  I 
thought  I  would  send  it  over  to  poor  Jim  Kelsey ;  that 
was  where  I  was,  last  evening.  Fiske's  book  might  be 
the  sort  that  would  help  him.  Oh, 'here  it  is!"  And 
he  took  the  book,  and  stood  by  the  window  glancing 
through  the  pages. 

"Jim  had  a  hard  time,  I  fear,  Lawrence,"  said  Mrs. 
Freeman,  with  deep  concern.  "  I  sometimes  wish  you 
didn't  take  such  things  quite  so  heavily  on  yourself. 
But  —  I  suppose  I  love  you  all  the  more  because  you 
do."  And  there  was  a  tender  look  in  her  proud  eyes, 


1 3o  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

which  few  except  her  husband  ever  saw.  "Who  is 
this  poor  fellow,  Kelsey  ?  " 

"  I  met  him,  first,  when  the  repairs  were  being  done 
on  the  chapel.  He  is  a  workman  in  Hargrove's  tin-shop. 
He  is  an  American  of  Irish  descent,  and  was  brought 
up  a  Roman  Catholic,  but  he  had  too  much  indepen 
dence  of  thought  to  remain  content  in  that  dogmatic  sys- 

O  j 

tern,  and  came  out  of  it.  I  talked  with  him  several  times 
and  found  him  a  sturdy  thinker.  When  his  little  girl 
was  given  up  by  the  doctor,  Mrs.  Kelsey  sent  for  the 
priest,  and  he  performed  some  final  ceremony,  but  Kel 
sey  himself  cared  nothing  about  that.  I  happened  to 
meet  him  on  the  street  and  went  home  with  him ;  in  fact 
he  asked  me  to." 

That  was  one  of  many  illustrations  of  the  way  in 
which  Lawrence  Freeman  was  trustfully  welcomed,  in 
the  hearts  and  homes  around  him.  It  was  commonly 
said  that  he  "  hadn't  any  style  about  him,  but  he  had 
enough  heart  to  make  up." 

"  I  had  talked  with  Jim  once  or  twice  on  serious  sub 
jects,  and  he  had  expressed  himself  —  rather  defiantly, 
of  course,  as  was  natural  in  talking  to  a  minister,  and  I 
didn't  mind  it  —  he  had  expressed  himself  as  being  a 
materialist.  Evidently  he  had  read  and  thought  and 
talked  about  it,  and  he  was  ready  to  argue  to  the  extreme 
limit  if  I  would.  But  I  never  like  to  discuss  those  top 
ics  in  a  combative  spirit,  as  if  I  were  fighting  the  other 
man,  and  I  merely  dropped  a  few  remarks  at  such  times 
and  turned  the  talk  to  other  themes.  But  last  night  he 
was  in  a  very  different  state  of  mind.  Oh,  how  I  pitied 
him  —  a  great,  strong,  uncultivated  nature.  He  was 
glad  to  have  me  sit  there  with  them,  only  a  smoky  kero 
sene  lamp  to  light  the  room,  and  his  little  one  moaning 
on  her  bed.  So  I  talked  freely,  though  quietly,  and  I 
am  sure  that  he  found  some  little  help  in  what  I  said. 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  131 

I  didn't  argue  the  case,  but  spoke  of  the  way  in  which  I 
looked  at  the  wonderful  thing  we  call  a  human  life,  and 
what  I  believed  about  it.  I  admitted  frankly  that  the 
mystery  of  human  personality  was  indeed  a  mystery, 
but  I  tried  to  show  him  how  much  greater  the  mystery 
was  if  we  ruled  out  God  and  immortality." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  with  an  abstracted  and 
almost  rapt  look  on  his  earnest,  rugged  face,  as  if 
the  scene  were  very  vivid  in  his  memory.  Then  he 
continued :  "  At  last  the  little  girl's  moaning  grew  fainter, 
and  presently  it  ceased  altogether.  I  was  aware  of  the 
change,  and  stopped  talking ;  for  at  such  a  solemn  mo 
ment  even  the  kindest  and  most  sympathetic  word  that 
man  can  utter  seems  too  rough  and  out  of  place.  So 
we  waited  in  that  way  several  minutes,  and  then  I 
knelt  and  prayed,  and  when  I  rose,  those  two,  mother 
and  father,  were  still  kneeling.  After  a  little,  as  we 
began  to  talk  again,  Kelsey  took  the  little  thin  hand 
in  his  big  brown  one,  stroked  it  a  bit,  passed  his  other 
hand  softly  over  the  cold,  lifeless  forehead,  and  said 
to  me  as  well  as  he  could  :  '  Mr.  Freeman,  I  under 
stand  some  things  now  that  I  never  did  before ;  and  one 
is  this,  that  my  little  girl  is  not  here.  This  is  where  she 
used  to  be,  but  she  has  somehow  gone  out  of  this  body. 
I  miss  something  out  of  it,  and  I  suppose  that  what  I 
miss  —  is  —  the  little  girl  herself;  her  real  self  that  used 
to  live  here.' 

"  I  was  glad  to  have  him  able  to  say  that,"  continued 
Lawrence.  "  He  is  facing  the  problem  of  spirit  and 
the  Infinite  Spirit,  on  a  higher  level  and  more  open- 
mindedly  than  he  used  to,  and  I  think  that  this  book  of 
Fiske's  may  help  him." 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  suggested  Mrs.  Freeman,  sympa 
thetically,  "  that  Tennyson's  '  In  Memoriam  '  would 
mean  much  to  him  ?  " 


1 32  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

"  Perhaps  not  all  of  it,"  replied  her  husband,  "  but  I 
believe  I  will  mark  a  few  stanzas  and  show  them  to  him 
after  he  has  read  this."  Saying  this,  he  took  his  hat 
and  coat  to  go  out. 

"  I  wouldn't  go  over  to  Kelsey's  again  this  morning, 
my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Freeman.  "  You  go  down  town 
and  attend  to  other  matters,  and  I  will  do  up  the  book 
in  a  paper,  and  send  it  over  by  the  grocer's  man  down 
stairs.  They  are  always  eager  to  do  things  for  you,  and 
I  don't  see  that  you  can  do  anything  more  for  those 
afflicted  people  just  now.  I  suppose  they  will  have  a 
priest  conduct  the  funeral  service.  I  hope  Kelsey  will 
have  the  good  sense  not  to  squander  his  slender  savings 
on  a  showy,  wasteful  burial." 

Freeman  reluctantly  yielded.  He  knew  that  his  wife 
spoke  words  of  reason,  and  he  allowed  her  to  wrap 
up  the  book,  carried  it  himself  down  into  the  grocery 
store,  over  which  they  lived,  and  the  clerk  gladly  prom 
ised  to  send  it  out  before  noon.  Then  the  busy  man 
went  down  the  street  and  began  his  duties  for  the  day. 

In  a  hundred  different  ways  Lawrence  Freeman  was 
taking  hold  of  the  lives  about  him.  At  first  he  had 
looked  about,  seeking  opportunities;  but  now,  after  these 
months  had  passed,  opportunities  for  usefulness  came 
unsought.  He  had  established  his  regular  Sunday  ser 
vices  in  the  chapel ;  he  had  given  the  place  no  name 
whatever,  but  as  his  own  name  became  known,  the 
people  naturally  grew  to  speak  of  the  chapel  as  "  Mr. 
Freeman's  Chapel."  And  although  personally,  in  his 
modesty,  he  would  have  altered  that  designation,  he  saw 
that  he  could  not  easily  do  so,  and  he  was  glad,  at  least, 
to  keep  the  place  and  the  service  free  from  all  doctrinal 
and  sectarian  labels.  He  had  received  two  or  three  let 
ters  and  visits  from  zealous  secretaries  and  "  field  agents," 
each  of  whom  hoped  to  be  allowed  to  record  this  new 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  133 

place  of  worship  on  the  list  of  his  denomination.  But 
Mr.  Freeman  was  unyielding ;  he  had  thought  the  mat 
ter  out,  and  was  gladly  resolved  to  go  forward  without 
either  the  aid  or  the  hindrance  of  other  churches  and 
groups  of  churches. 

One  incident  which,  little  as  he  realized  it  at  the  time, 
reached  far  into  the  future  of  his  chapel,  may  properly 
here  be  told.  He  was  walking  along  one  of  the  narrower 
streets,  late  in  an  afternoon,  when  he  saw  an  old  man, 
across  the  way,  beset  by  three  rough  young  fellows ; 
they  had  pushed  up  against  him,  and  were  hustling  him 
about,  in  a  rowdyish  fashion.  A  basket,  which  the  old 
man  had  been  carrying,  had  fallen  from  his  hand  and 
rolled  in  the  gutter,  with  the  meat  and  vegetables  it  had 
contained.  His  spectacles  also  had  been  knocked  off ; 
and  as  he  stood  there,  the  helpless  butt  of  this  horse 
play,  the  minister  caught  sight  of  him. 

Freeman,  as  a  boy,  had  been  considered  quite  up  to 
the  average  standards  of  boyish  activity ;  and,  as  I  have 
pointed  out,  when  a  collegian,  he  had  been  found,  on 
several  occasions,  to  have  a  rather  "  nasty  "  temper. 
And  in  the  gymnasium  classes  he  was  known  to  possess 
a  pair  of  clever  fists ;  but,  on  going  into  the  ministry,  he 
had  struggled  with  his  hasty  and  violent  nature  and  had 
subdued  it ;  at  least,  nobody  in  Emmanuel  Church  had 
ever  thought  of  him  as  having  much  difficulty  in  control 
ling  his  feelings,  and  most  of  the  parish  did  not  credit 
him  with  the  possession  of  any  strong  emotions  what 
ever.  That  had  been  the  result  of  his  firm  hold  upon 
himself ;  he  had  set  out  to  be  a  clergyman,  and  he  had 
disciplined  himself  in  practice,  as  in  theory  he  had 
urged  such  self-discipline  from  the  pulpit.  Moreover, 
no  occasion  had  happened  to  arise,  for  a  long  time, 
which  caught  him  as  unawares  as  did  this  one.  Now 
he  rapidly  crossed  the  street,  with  a  tide  of  indignation 


i34  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

swelling  within  him,  such  as  he  had  not  felt  for  years. 
The  sight  of  the  poor,  helpless  old  man,  surrounded  and 
baited  by  those  young  ruffians,  swept  him  from  his 
anchorage  of  self-control  before  he  knew  it.  He  knew 
only  one  thing,  that  such  conduct  was  brutal  and  hate 
ful  ;  and  with  a  few,  swift  strides  he  came  up  to  them, 
caught  one  by  the  neck  and  flung  him  into  the  road, 
gave  another  a  push  which  sent  him  spinning  with  a 
crash  against  a  brick  wall,  and  before  the  third  one,  the 
leader,  could  set  up  any  effective  line  of  defence,  the 
indignant  and  angered  clergyman  put  his  fist  up  to  his 
face,  and,  hoarse  with  anger,  exclaimed,  "  You  scoun 
drels,  I'll  teach  you  to  maltreat  an  old  man  !  "  His  face 
was  flaming  red,  the  old  tell-tale  scar  on  his  temple  was 
fairly  livid,  and  his  flashing  eyes,  his  fury  of  indignant 
contempt,  utterly  disconcerted  and  cowed  the  three 
young  ruffians,  although  they  were  larger  than  himself, 
and  not  inexperienced  in  street  rows.  They  were 
clearly  frightened  —  for  the  moment,  at  least ;  and  they 
began  to  shrink  away.  Then  a  strange  reaction  took 
place  in  the  aroused  and  wrathful  minister.  Those  street 
hoodlums  had  probably  never  seen  its  similar  before. 
Had  they  fought  him,  his  violent  wrath  and  tension  of 
nerves  would  have  held  up  until  physical  collapse  came  ; 
but  now,  when  they  retreated,  confusedly,  before  his 
sudden  attack,  his  anger  and  fierceness  went  from  him 
in  an  instant ;  and  the  young  fellows  must  have  been 
surprised  —  indeed  they  were  surprised,  as  they  after 
ward  said,  never  more  so  in  their  lives  —  when  he  sud 
denly  lowered  his  fist,  the  fierce  fire  left  his  eyes,  and 
in  a  low,  firm,  kindly  voice,  he  said  :  "  Now,  boys,  it  wasn't 
just  fair,  was  it,  to  treat  an  old,  white-haired  man  that 
way  ?  Say,  now,  it  wasn't  just  square,  was  it  ?  I  know 
you  didn't  mean  any  harm.  Let's  shake  hands,  now ! 
Let's  shake  hands  !  "  And  with  a  sincerity  which  they 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  135 

could  not  doubt,  and  a  kindness  and  heartiness  which 
amazed  and  puzzled  and  yet  fascinated  them,  he  went  up 
to  one  and  another,  and  actually  shook  hands  ;  then,  with 
a  knowledge  of  the  rough  life  of  the  quarter,  and  with  an 
adaptability  which  he  had  not  possessed  six  months  be 
fore,  he  said,  in  the  simplest  and  friendliest  way  imagi 
nable  :  "  Now,  boys,  I'm  the  minister  of  that  chapel  in  the 
next  street ;  and  I  wish  you  would  come  over  and  see  me, 
and  help  me  run  it,  too.  I  need  your  help,  for  some 
things."  Then  he  said  "  good-by,"  and  set  out  after 
the  old  man,  who  had  picked  up  his  belongings  and  was 
hurrying  away  as  fast  as  his  decrepit  legs  would  carry 
him. 

Freeman  did  not  follow  him  into  the  cross-alley, 
which  he  suddenly  entered,  but  continued  more  slowly 
along  the  street,  whither  his  business  led  him.  The 
minister  was  considerably  shaken  up  by  the  whole 
affair ;  he  had  been  terribly  aroused,  so  far  as  the  emo 
tion  of  anger  was  concerned,  and  now,  when  the  scene 
was  over,  he  suffered  not  a  little  regret  and  self-mortifi 
cation.  He  had  not  so  lost  his  grasp  on  his  temper  for 
years ;  and  he  hardly  knew  himself,  in  this  rare,  ungov- 
erned  mood.  Yet  he  was  convinced  that  only  his  tower 
ing  rage —  which  must  have  been  very  evident  —  only 
this  could  have  intimidated  those  three  young  ruffians. 
Any  less  bold  and  determined  interference  on  his  part 
very  likely  would  have  resulted  in  failure,  and  even  in 
injury  to  himself.  So  he  took  a  brisk  walk  out  into  the 
suburbs,  and  tried  to  calm  down. 

That  was  by  no  means  the  end  of  the  affair,  especially 
with  reference  to  the  poor,  decrepit  old  man.  The  chain 
of  causation  ran  like  this :  A  week  or  two  afterward,  as 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freeman  were  sitting  in  the  evening  at 
the  table,  reading,  somebody  came  stumbling  up  the 
narrow  stairway,  and,  after  a  pause,  there  was  a  knock 


136  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

on  the  door.  Lawrence  went  to  the  door  and  opened 
it.  A  man,  in  rough  garb,  stood  there  with  hat  in 
hand,  and  with  a  worn  and  anxious  expression  on  his 
face.  He  was  a  German,  as  his  speech  showed  when 
he  asked  if  Mr.  Freeman  was  the  minister,  and  then 
went  on  to  state  his  errand.  With  considerable  hesita 
tion  and  manifest  distress,  he  finally  communicated  the 
information  that  his  wife  had  killed  herself,  the  day 
before,  and  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  find  a  priest  or 
minister  who  would  hold  a  service  of  Christian  burial 
over  her  dead  body. 

Freeman  at  once  set  the  harassed  man's  mind  at 
rest.  "  I  will  hold  a  service,"  he  said  promptly.  And 
the  German  almost  cried  with  relief  and  joy ;  and  then 
explained  that  his  wife  had  been  sick  for  a  long  time, 
and  had  been  "  queer,"  and  he  thought  she  was  not 
responsible,  and  so  on.  When  Freeman,  led  by  curios 
ity,  happened  to  ask  the  man  how  he  chanced  to  come 
to  him,  the  man  showed  some  confusion,  hesitated, 
and  finally  said,  blurting  it  out  impulsively:  "Veil,  I 
dell  you.  I  go  to  Ben  Birch  ;  '  Ole  Unkel  Ben,'  volks 
call  him.  He  mein  freund,  long  time.  You  drove  off 
de  bad  men  what  hustled  him.  Understand  ?  "  And 
Lawrence  recognized  the  reference  to  the  old  man  whom 
he  had  defended  from  the  three  roughs. 

"  Veil,  ver  goot !  I  go  to  '  Ole  Unkel  Ben,'  und  I  say, 
'  Gott  in  Himmel,  vot  do  I  now  ?  Who  vill  mein  poor 
weib  decent  bury  ?  Und  Unkel  Ben,  he  say,  '  Go  to 
Meester  Vreeman  !  He's  der  man.  He'll  fix  everyding 
all  right  for  you.'  So  I  gome." 

With  that  outburst,  given  from  an  overstrained  and 
now  grateful  heart,  the  worthy  German  began  to  move 
toward  the  door ;  then,  with  some  difficulty,  he  made 
known  the  time  and  place  of  the  funeral  service,  stam 
mered  profuse  thanks,  and  soon  was  gone,  his  great 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  137 

heavy  boots  pounding  down  over  the  dark,  narrow 
stairway. 

It  need  not  be  added  that  Freeman  fully  and  tenderly 
carried  out  the  promise  he  had  made ;  and  the  poor  vic 
tim  of  her  own  hand  was  given  respectable  Christian 
burial,  being  doubtless  worthier  of  it  than  many  whose 
elegies  have  been  uttered  by  eloquent  lips,  and  whose 
dust  reposes  in  costly  mausoleums. 

The  "  thread  of  causation,"  which  has  been  mentioned, 
ran  through  this  incident,  back  to  "  Uncle  Ben  Birch  " 
himself.  And  Freeman  had  some  curiosity  to  meet 
and  converse  with  this  quaint  old  man,  whom  he  had 
so  violently  rescued  (he  reddened  whenever  he  recalled 
it),  who  evidently  had  so  flattering  an  estimate  of  his 
rescuer.  But  duties  were  so  pressing  at  this  time  that 
several  weeks  elapsed  before  Freeman  could  follow 
up  the  interesting  thread  of  suggestion,  which  I  have 
indicated,  regarding  Uncle  Ben.  However,  in  due  time, 
the  opportunity  came  and  the  visit  was  made. 

Lawrence  found  the  old  man  in  the  roughly  finished 
loft  of  a  carpenter's  shop,  not  far  away,  and,  passing 
up  a  rickety  stairway,  on  the  outside  of  the  shop,  he 
knocked  and  was  admitted. 

"  Uncle  Ben  "  proved  to  be  one  of  those  "  characters  " 
who  may  be  found  in  every  city  and  town,  if  one  has  an 
eye  for  them.  He  was  a  large  man,  over  seventy  years 
old,  still  florid  in  complexion,  with  thin,  straggling  white 
hair  on  his  head,  and  a  fringe  of  white  hair  running 
around  under  his  chin,  in  the  fashion  made  so  famous 
by  Horace  Greeley  years  before.  It  was  from  the  great 
journalist  himself  that  Uncle  Ben  had  copied  the  fashion; 
and  one  of  the  reminiscences  which  he  liked  best  to  give 
was  the  one  wherein  he  himself  had  figured,  blacking  the 
boots  of  the  famous  Horace,  and  adopting  him  then  and 
there  as  the  ideal  of  his  simple  heart.  Uncle  Ben  was  very 


138  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

slow,  "  moderate,"  as  people  sometimes  remarked  good- 
naturedly  ;  and  as  to  tidiness  of  personal  appearance, 
that  was  never  suggested  by  his  attire.  He  had  never, 
even  in  his  palmiest  days,  been  more  than  a  faithful 
chore-man,  and  always  had  accepted  gifts  of  garments 
in  lieu  of  cash.  He  wore  congress  boots,  when  he  could 
get  them,  for  they  required  but  little  time  to  put  on  ;  the 
fact  that  his  trousers  legs  generally  rested  on  the  little 
straps,  at  the  top  of  the  boots  behind,  did  not  concern 
him  —  certainly  he  could  plead  that  he  never  saw  them 
thus  propped  up.  Uncle  Ben  was  possessed  of  a  very 
kind  heart,  of  the  phlegmatic  sort,  and  had  long  shared 
his  food  and  shelter  with  three  or  four  cats,  who  accepted 
his  devotion  and  his  bounty  with  feline  dignity.  He 
earned  such  money  as  he  could  by  simple  repairs  on 
furniture,  having  a  bench  and  some  tools  in  one  corner 
of  the  loft.  When  business  of  this  sort  was  light,  he 
gave  his  attention  to  the  braiding  of  rugs  from  strips 
of  rags ;  and  these  rags  were  gathered  by  him  on  sun 
dry  rounds  which  he  made  to  the  houses  of  a  half  dozen 
old  families,  whom  he  had  known  for  thirty  or  forty 
years.  He  was  proud  of  his  handiwork,  as  a  craftsman 
in  rug-making;  especially  was  he  pleased  with  his  original 
designs.  One  saying  of  his  —  uttered  at  a  time  when  his 
supply  of  rags  had  fallen  short  —  was  quoted  to  all  new 
comers  in  the  neighborhood  :  "  Folks  don't  know  what 
things  I've  got  in  my  head  if  I  only  had  the  rags."  So, 
like  many  another  aspiring  mortal,  the  artistic  yearnings 
of  his  soul  were  repressed  by  his  material  limitations. 
It  was  always  amusing  to  note,  in  Uncle  Ben,  as  you 
often  can  note  it  in  an  "old  resident,"  an  utter  indiffer 
ence  and  ignorance  regarding  the  new  life  growing  up 
around  him.  To  him  the  North  Side  was  still  the  North 
Side,  of  thirty  years  before  ;  and  the  only  people  who  had 
real  existence  for  him  were  the  half  dozen  old  families 


A  CHILD   OF   NATURE  139 

of  aged  men  and  women,  who  formerly  had  been  active 
in  developing  that  region,  but  now  were  quietly  retired 
into  nooks  of  observation  and  corners  of  comment. 
When  Uncle  Ben  said,  "  Folks  is  feelin'  bad  'baout  the 
new  railroad,"  he  meant  old  Sam  Littlefield  and  infirm 
Jonas  Marsh,  tottering  white-haired  men,  who  crept 
along,  unnoticed,  from  eddy  to  eddy,  in  the  swift  cur 
rents  of  the  busy  streets ;  and  when  Uncle  Ben  said, 
"  Everybody  is  a  takin'  on  'baout  that  'ar  burglar  case 
over  to  Ridgely,"  he  meant  that  the  Misses  Taft  (aged 
spinsters  in  bombazine)  and  possibly  old  Mrs.  Snow  (the 
rich  widow  of  his  former  employer)  were  laboring  under 
some  agitation  of  spirit.  To  Uncle  Ben  a  half  dozen 
of  these  households  comprised  "  the  taown  "  ;  all  other 
people  were  interlopers,  who  had  somehow  secured  the 
legal  right  to  invade  the  locality,  but  who  really  did  not 
belong  there  and  must  be  tolerated. 

One  of  the  attractive  elements  in  Uncle  Ben's 
character  was  a  childish  simplicity  of  manner  and 
frankness  of  speech,  which  was  the  same  to  all  comers. 
This  unspoiled  quality  in  the  old  man  sometimes  was 
drawn  upon  by  persons  of  his  acquaintance,  for  the 
purpose  of  raising  a  laugh ;  but  the  laugh  often  recoiled 
on  the  head  of  him  who  had  raised  it,  as  the  old  man, 
who  had  absolutely  no  sense  of  humor,  replied  with 
some  frank  personality.  Nobody  had  ever  known  him 
to  do  a  dishonest  deed  or  speak  an  untruth  ;  no,  he 
did  not  color  or  shade  the  harsh  fact  which  happened 
to  be  in  his  mind,  but  spoke  it  to  friend  or  foe,  yet  in 
such  a  calm,  reflective  way,  that  nobody  could  be  very 
angry  with  him.  The  passion  of  anger,  like  that  of 
humor,  seemed  to  be  left  out  of  his  make-up  ;  some 
times  mild  interest  and  anxiety  were  manifest  in  his 
voice  or  manner,  but  these  never  resolved  themselves 
into  any  severer  emotion. 


140  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

When  Freeman  made  his  way  into  the  restricted 
apartment  where  the  old  man  dwelt  with  his  numerous 
pets,  Uncle  Ben  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  couch, 
trouserless,  because  that  garment  was  in  his  hands, 
undergoing  repairs.  He  showed  not  the  slightest  con 
straint  or  shyness  at  being  thus  discovered,  but  paused 
in  his  sewing  and  waited  for  his  visitor  to  speak.  The 
old  man  always  kept  his  mouth  slightly  open,  which  set 
him  in  a  chronic  appearance  of  inquiry  toward  the 
world ;  this,  indeed,  was  also  much  his  mental  attitude. 
The  world  had  buffeted  him  often,  but  had  also  interested 
and  puzzled  him ;  and,  of  the  two,  mild  perplexity  and 
curiosity  had  triumphed  over  despondence  or  any  spirit 
of  retaliation.  Therefore,  having  preserved  through  life 
a  calmness  and  gentleness  of  spirit,  the  old  man's  large 
face  was  smooth  and  fair,  his  pale  blue  eyes  opened 
with  the  expectancy  of  childhood,  and  his  open  mouth 
was  symbolic  of  the  receptivity  and  hospitality  of  his 
mind. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Birch  ? "  asked  the  minister,  cheerily, 
closing  the  door  behind  him,  and  stepping  over  a 
slumbering  cat. 

The  old  man,  always  slow  of  speech  and  movement, 
stared  at  him  a  moment,  pushed  back  his  heavy-rimmed 
spectacles,  and  said,  "Yes,  I'm  —  I'm  Uncle  Ben." 
Then,  as  he  saw  more  clearly,  in  the  somewhat  dim 
light  of  the  loft,  he  recognized  his  visitor,  and  his  hesi 
tating  manner  changed  to  assured  pleasure.  "Wall 
now !  Ef  'tain't  kind  in  yer,  Mr.  Freeman,  ter  come 
and  see  me ! "  And,  without  any  apology  for  his 
appearance,  he  walked,  bare-legged,  across  the  floor, 
trousers  in  hand,  and  greeted  his  caller. 

Lawrence  had  brought  two  pounds  of  mutton-chops 
with  him,  and  these  he  at  once  presented,  saying, 
"  My  wife  sent  these  along,  Uncle  Ben ;  and  she  hopes 


A  CHILD   OF   NATURE  141 

you  will  not  give  too  large  a  part  of  them  to  your 
cats." 

This  was  said  with  a  quizzical  smile,  which  Mr.  Free 
man  intended  as  a  clew  to  their  facetiousness  of  mean 
ing;  but  Uncle  Ben,  always  serious  and  prosaic,  weighed 
the  matter  in  his  mind,  staring  absently  with  his  dull, 
pale  blue  eyes  at  his  visitor,  and  presently  rejoined,  as  if 
giving  a  Supreme  Court  decision  :  "  Wall,  I'll  tell  yer ; 
I'll  jest  divide  up  the  fat,  on  —  on  that  one  (looking 
at  them  critically),  and  parcel  it  out  tew  'em.  Yer  see,  I 
hev  ter  feed  'em  seprit,  or  thet  thar  yaller  one,  ez  looks 
so  meechin',  would  git  the  hull  on't.  He's  a  tussler,  I 
tell  yer !  "  And  the  old  man's  face  showed  signs  of 
pride  and  responsibility. 

"  All  right,  all  right !  "  assented  the  minister,  cheer 
fully  ;  and  then,  to  divert  the  current  of  conversation 
from  this  somewhat  unfruitful  topic,  he  spoke  a  few 
words  in  praise  of  the  convenient  housekeeping  arrange 
ments  which  were  visible  around  the  loft.  From  that 
he  turned  to  the  subject  of  rag  carpets;  and  Uncle  Ben, 
now  resuming  his  sartorial  occupation,  explained  the 
cares  and  rewards  of  the  rag  carpet  industry,  and  en 
larged  upon  the  infinite  superiority  of  such  products 
over  flimsy  "  store  stuff."  From  speaking  about  rugs 
and  carpets,  the  old  man  easily  passed  to  the  subject 
of  boots  —  boots  in  general;  then  to  the  more  special 
topic  of  "boots  which  he  had  blacked";  and  then 
the  story  of  his  blacking  Horace  Greeley's  boots  was 
inevitable,  and  was  slowly  and  fully  laid  before  his 
visitor. 

"  He  tole  me  thet  he'd  git  me  a  position,"  con 
cluded  Uncle  Ben,  reflectively,  with  no  bitterness,  or 
even  regret,  audible  in  his  voice,  as  he  tried  to  thread 
the  needle  by  the  dim  light  of  the  dusty  window. 
"  Yes,  that's  wot  he  said ;  an'  I  didn't  ask  for  it,  nuther. 


i42  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

But  .  .  ." 

Here  his  poor,  clumsy  fingers  lost  their  insecure  grasp 
on  the  needle,  and  it  fell  to  the  floor.  With  not  the 
slightest  sign  of  irritation  the  stiff  old  man  began  slow 
and  systematic  search  for  the  bit  of  steel,  still  keeping 
up  his  narration,  with  sundry  pauses  for  breath. 

"  But  I  reckin  —  he  hed  considerable  —  on  his  mind. 
Them  ez  knowed  —  said  he  did;  and  he  never  —  never 
done  nothin'  abaout  it." 

"  That  was  too  bad,"  remarked  his  visitor,  sympatheti 
cally,  himself  looking  for  the  needle. 

"  Wall,  I  dunno  ez  'tis,"  continued  Uncle  Ben,  in  the 
gasping  intervals  of  his  search.  "I  might  'a'  got  — 
inter  some  wickedness  or  other — ef  I'd  'a'  gone  to  that 
gret  city  —  er  New  York.  There's  allus  somebody  —  a 
stealin',  or  burnin',  or  murd'rin '  —  in  thet  'ar  place." 
And  he  stood  up,  at  last,  with  the  recreant  bit  of  steel 
between  his  thumb  and  finger.  Somehow  he  didn't 
quite  look  the  depraved  criminal,  as  he  stood  there, 
with  his  simple,  sincere,  guileless  face  fairly  purple  by 
reason  of  his  exertions.  But  Mr.  Freeman  nodded,  in 
affirmation  of  the  remote  possibility,  and  waited  for  his 
host  to  continue. 

"  Yer  see,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  attacking  the  needle  with 
some  thread,  "  I  cal'late  ez  I've  done  purty  well,  ez  'tiz ; 
an'  there's  no  tellin'  haow  I'd  'a'  got  on  in  New  York.  So 
I  never  laid  it  up  agin  Mr.  Greeley,  thet  he  didn't  git  me 
a  place.  I've  hed  my  share  of  the  good  things  o'  life,  I 
reckin."  And  the  solemn  way  in  which  this  assertion 
came  from  the  decrepit,  impoverished  old  man  made 
Lawrence  Freeman  feel  moist  about  the  eyes,  though 
whether  from  pity  or  mirth  he  could  not  quite  say. 

The  invincible  good  nature,  the  undiluted  optimism  of 
the  aged  creature  was  marvellous.  Mr.  Freeman  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  test  him  further.  "  You 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  143 

must  have  had  disappointments,  though,"  he  ven 
tured. 

A  short  pause,  while  Uncle  Ben  thought  the  suggestion 
over,  candidly.  "  Yaas,  I  can't  quite  say  but  I  hev,  naow 
an'  then.  But  they  mos'  giner'lly  turned  out  blessin's 
in  disguise."  Another  pause,  and  he  went  on  struggling 
patiently  with  his  mending.  "  I  mus'  say  I  was  kinder 
disapp'inted,  for  a  time,  'baout  that  will  er  Mis'  Snow's. 
You  know  Mis'  Snow,  of  course  ;  everybody  knows  her." 

Mrs.  Snow  was  the  rich  widow  of  a  former  employer 
of  Uncle  Ben's,  previously  mentioned. 

"  Waal,  Mis'  Snow  'n'  I  hev  ben  friends  a  long  time. 
I  wuz  with  her  when  her  husband  died.  An'  abaout  thet 
time  she  got  kinder  riled  at  her  relations,  an'  she  says 
ter  me,  one  day  after  readin'  a  letter,  '  Ben,'  she  says, 
'  I'll  leave  my  money  ter  you,  I  will.  See  'f  I  don't.' 
Waal,  thet  didn't  stir  me  up  very  much,  but  I  didn't 
object  ter  hevin'  a  leetle  more  o'  this  world's  goods,  ef 
she  wuz  so  inclined." 

Here  he  broke  his  thread  and  his  discourse,  for  a 
brief  period,  then  continued,  in  as  calm  and  impartial 
a  tone  as  if  discussing  his  cats  or  rugs  :  "  But,  yer  see, 
she  keeps  right  on  a-livin',  an'  a-livin',  an'  ez  likely's 
not  I'll  git  through  fust.  'Twont  matter  much,  either 
way ;  only  sometimes,  when  I  git  kinder  short  er  rags, 
I  thinks  to  myself,  thinks  I,  Naow  haow  nice  'twould 
be  ter  be  able  ter  buy  a  hull  lot  o'  purty  rags  all  ter 
onct ! " 

Mr.  Freeman  could  hardly  credit  his  ears ;  but,  as  he 
listened,  there  could  be  no  real  doubt  of  the  queer  old 
man's  entire  childlike  sincerity.  There  was  a  mild 
desire  evident  in  him  to  possess  a  little  more  money,  and 
a  frank  surprise  and  almost  gentle  regret  that  "  Mis' " 
Snow  did  not  "git  through  "  as  soon  as  could  naturally 
be  expected ;  but  no  bitterness,  no  envy,  at  all. 


i44  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

The  mending  being  accomplished,  in  sadly  ineffec 
tive  fashion,  Uncle  Ben  drew  on  his  trousers  and  set 
about  showing  to  his  visitor  his  various  possessions, 
meanwhile  talking  in  his  slow,  precise,  methodical  way. 
"  I  haven't  forgot  'baout  the  way  you  beat  off  them  ras 
cals  thet  day,"  he  said.  "An'  I  was  thinkin'  could  I 
do  anythin'  fur  you.  I  hear  ez  you're  a-doin'  a  mas 
ter  sight  er  good  round  here,  an'  I  wish  I  could  help 
yer.  I  use'  ter  sing  purty  well,  onct ;  so  they  use  ter 
tell  me;  ef  I  felt  a  little  stronger,  I'd  come  over  an' 
help  yer  along  o'  thet  'ar  chapel  work  er  yourn.  I  use' 
ter  —  " 

Then  a  good  idea  struck  him,  and  he  stopped  short 
in  his  movements,  his  poor  old  brain  —  like  a  feeble  en 
gine  —  being  unable  to  furnish  force  enough  to  sustain 
more  than  one  kind  of  activity  at  a  time.  "I'll  tell 
yer.  I'll  bring  my  fiddle  over  an'  play,  ter  help  along 
the  singin'.  How's  thet?" 

Mr.  Freeman  was  a  trifle  discomposed  at  the  sugges 
tion,  but  hoped  he  did  not  show  any  confusion,  in  voice 
or  manner.  "  I  thank  you  very  much,  Uncle  Ben," 
he  said.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  your  help  with  the 
music,  in  one  way  or  another,  at  the  chapel."  Then  he 
turned  the  conversation  into  a  new  channel,  and  had 
a  hope  that  this  sudden  resolution  of  the  old  man's 
would  be  forgotten.  But  he  was  mistaken.  He  did 
not  yet  fully  grasp  Uncle  Ben's  faithful,  plodding,  prim 
itive  nature. 

After  a  short  stay,  the  minister  said  that  he  must  go ; 
and,  taking  up  his  hat,  he  moved  slowly  and  circum 
spectly  toward  the  door.  There  he  shook  hands  with 
his  host,  and  was  about  to  leave ;  but  Uncle  Ben  held 
him,  several  moments,  firmly  and  affectionately  by  the 
hand,  and  looked  him  squarely  and  honestly  in  the 
face.  "  I'm  gretly  pleased  ter  hev  seen  yer,"  he  said  ; 


A   CHILD   OF   NATURE  145 

"  I've  heered  tell  abaout  yer,  an'  I've  heered  many  good 
things  said  abaout  yer.  An'  I  reckin  they're  true.  I 
like  yer  much,  Mr.  Freeman;  an'  I'll  come  over,  some 
day,  an'  help  yer  with  the  fiddle,  abaout  that  'ar 
music." 


CHAPTER   X 
FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL 

"Give  me  the  power  to  labor  for  mankind; 
Make  me  the  mouth  of  such  as  cannot  speak, 
Eyes  let  me  be  to  groping  men  and  blind, 
A  conscience  to  the  base  and  to  the  weak." 

—  THEODORE  PARKER. 

REGARDING  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay,  Freeman,  as 
yet,  had  done  nothing.  He  had  decided  —  urgently 
seconded  by  his  wife  —  to  wait  for  Carnaquay  to  come, 
if  he  wished,  and  seek  him  out,  not  wishing  to  appear 
in  any  way  to  intrude  upon  his  successor.  That  Carna 
quay  would  come  and  find  him,  in  due  time,  he  felt 
sure ;  because  their  relations  had  always  been  friendly, 
though  not  intimate.  Mr.  Freeman,  however,  did  not 
remain  ignorant  of  the  many  novel  events  which  were 
transpiring,  under  the  new  regime,  in  Emmanuel  Church. 
The  newspapers  gave  full  reports,  from  time  to  time,  of 
sociables  and  services,  some  of  them  decidedly  unique 
in  character,  but  all  of  them  attended,  as  the  reports 
said,  "'  by  large  and  interested  assemblies." 

Then,  too,  Mrs.  Guthrie  was  a  not  infrequent  visitor, 
and  a  welcome  one,  in  the  cosey  and  tasteful  apartment 
over  the  grocer's  shop.  "  Nice  enough,  after  you  get 
up  here,"  sniffed  that  rosy,  nimble-tongued  young  person. 
"  Only  you  will  both  die  of  heart  disease,  from  climbing 
that  awfully  long  stairway.  Ah,  what  a  charming  shade 
of  red  that  wall-paper  is !  And  that  delicate  dark  bor- 

146 


FREEMAN'S   CHAPEL  147 

der  at  the  top !  Just  like  black  lace  draped  down  over 
it !  Charming  !  "  And  Mrs.  Guthrie  put  up  a  tortoise- 
shell  lorgnette,  to  examine  the  wall. 

"  I'm  glad  you  admire  it,"  remarked  Mrs.  Freeman, 
indifferently  ;  then  she  added,  with  a  laugh,  "  But  I'm 
more  glad  that  Mrs.  Cameron,  above  us,  admires  it. 
She  has  ordered  a  paper  like  it ;  it  doesn't  cost  much. 
She  is  to  give  up  her  tea,  and  Mr.  Cameron  is  to  give 
up  his  tobacco,  until  they  have  paid  for  it." 

"  Not  half  bad,  that !  "  responded  Mrs.  Guthrie,  and 
laid  aside  her  hat.  When  asked  about  the  new  minister, 
she  poised  her  head  on  one  side  and  tersely  described 
him  as  vulgar  and  conceited.  "And,  O  ye  shades  of 
Robertson  and  Maurice!"  (the  deceased  Dr.  Guthrie's 
contemporaries  and  personal  friends),  "you  ought  to 
see  that  tall,  swarthy  mountebank  stride  up  and  down 
the  platform ;  he  gets  across  in  five  strides.  I've 
counted  them,  often ;  and  the  way  he  throws  the  books 
around  !  " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Freeman,  in 
some  surprise. 

"Haven't  you  heard  about  that?"  returned  Mrs. 
Guthrie,  laughing  merrily.  "  Why,  you  ought  to  see  that 
performance.  He  is  tremendous,  overwhelming,  as  a 
scholar,  you  know ;  at  least  that  is  his  role  —  one  of 
them.  I  am  a  bit  accustomed  to  real  scholarship,  you 
remember.  Dr.  Guthrie  had  something  of  a  name  in 
Assyriology,  more  so  abroad  than  in  this  country ;  and 
he  knew  how  to  use  books  —  so  does  this  man,  for  that 
matter,"  and  she  laughed  afresh.  "  He  knows  how  to 
use  them  for  his  own  clever  purposes  ;  and  he  brings  in 
several  volumes,  every  Sunday,  to  refer  to  and  to  quote. 
Doesn't  need  to  at  all.  He  can  reel  off  yards  of  stuff 
whenever  he  wishes  to.  But  you  see,  the  books  —  es 
pecially  big  ones,  bound  in  sheep  and  leather  —  give 


148  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

plain  evidence  of  his  vast  scholarship ;  and  he  reads 
them  off  with  a  flourish,  then  often  tosses  them  away  on 
the  floor,  a  dozen  paces  away,  and  '  bang'  they  go,  and 
everybody's  nerves  are  kept  in  tension,  and  nobody  is  in 
danger  of  falling  asleep.  It  is  a  great  piece  of  —  well, 
—  bluff;  that  is  the  truth.  Still,"  she  added  scornfully, 
"it  seems  to  impress  those  ignoramuses  wonderfully." 

"Have  you  met  Dr.  Carnaquay,  yet?"  asked  Law 
rence,  casually  laying  aside  the  book  he  had  been 
reading. 

"  No,  I  have  not.  I  haven't  cared  to.  They  say  he 
is  rather  agreeable,  in  private.  But  everybody  runs 
after  him  so  madly  that  I  keep  out  of  the  way.  There 
is  Miss  Metcalf,  now.  Calls  herself  his  cousin.  A 
good  many  removes,  as  I  happen  to  know.  And  she 
has  him  at  her  house  half  the  time.  Feeds  him,  I 
suppose.  That  is  the  way  to  reach  men's  regard  and 
esteem,  even  if  they  are  clergymen."  And  she  tossed 
her  round  curly  head  and  nodded  mischievously  at  Mr. 
Freeman.  "  However,  he  rides  along  on  the  top  of  the 
wave  at  present.  How  long  his  glory  will  wear,  nobody 
can  say." 

"  I  hope  it  will  last,"  said  Mr.  Freeman,  with  sincerity 
and  earnestness.  "  And  quite  likely  it  will.  The  man 
has  talent,  and  means  to  do  what  seems  to  him  right.  I 
wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  proved  to  be  just  the  man 
for  the  place.  I  can  say  that  honestly,  for  I  am  happier 
in  my  work  over  here,  than  ever  before,  since  I  entered 
the  ministry.  You  must  come  down  to  one  of  our 
services."  And  he  added  playfully,  "  I  can't  let  you 
teach  in  our  Sunday-school.  You  say  such  —  such  — 
unexpected  things  ;  there  !  May  I  put  it  that  way  ?  " 

"Any  way  you  like.  But  I'll  come,  some  day,  soon. 
Don't  be  surprised  if  you  see  me  come  in,  with  a  big 
gag  in  my  mouth.  You'll  feel  safer,  then." 


FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL  149 

Thus  the  vivacious  young  creature  chattered  on.  It 
was  evident  that  she  took  very  little  interest  in  the  new 
occupant  of  Emmanuel  pulpit.  On  the  other  hand,  she 
was  greatly  interested  in  the  affairs  of  her  two  friends. 
From  her  point  of  view  the  kind  of  life  that  they  were 
living  was  rather  Quixotic,  as  she  sometimes  casually 
remarked,  when  they  were  mentioned  by  anybody ;  but, 
underneath  this  light  comment,  she  really  knew  that 
they  were  accomplishing  such  good  as  can  be  accom 
plished,  by  human  beings  of  higher  tastes  and  intelli 
gence,  for  others  lower  in  the  scale,  through  personal 
contact ;  and  this  work,  although  less  conspicuous  and 
impressive  than  making  reform  speeches  and  establish 
ing  reform  associations,  is,  after  all,  the  permanent  sort 
of  work  which  the  world  needs. 

She  gave  the  Freemans  more  pity  than  they  needed, 
as  they  sometimes  laughingly  told  her.  She  saw  only  the 
outside  of  their  situation,  with  noise  and  untidiness  very 
apparent ;  she  did  not  see  the  interesting,  picturesque, 
and  pathetic  inside  of  it  all. 

The  chapel  was  steadily  gaining  in  popular  favor. 
Mr.  Freeman  had  not  come  into  his  work  with  fully 
developed  theories  as  to  its  every  part.  He  was  clear 
about  having  a  Sunday  service,  one  at  least,  and  later 
possibly  two ;  this  first  one  had  been  begun  at  the  out 
set,  and  was  conducted  wholly  by  Mr.  Freeman,  in  the 
most  orderly  and  reverent  way  possible.  At  first  a 
large  number  of  people  came,  from  curiosity,  and  attrib 
uted  all  kinds  of  motives  to  the  vigorous,  earnest  man 
in  the  low  reading-desk.  Then  this  crowd  drifted  away, 
its  curiosity  being  satisfied,  and  the  real  beginning  of  a 
permanent  congregation  was  made.  A  score  in  all,  per 
haps,  for  several  Sundays;  then  a  few  more,  and  a  steady, 
though  slow  growth. 

The  truth  was  —  and  Lawrence  Freeman  soon  real- 


150  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

ized  it  —  that  he  preached  to  these  people  with  an 
apostolic  simplicity  and  earnestness  which  he  had  never 
before  known.  Formerly,  until  he  came  to  the  chapel, 
he  had  carefully  prepared  and  read  manuscript  sermons. 
Now,  he  simply  talked  with  directness  and  freedom. 
In  Emmanuel  Church  he  was  always  conscious  that 
watchful  eyes  were  on  him,  and  critical  ears  were  fol 
lowing  every  word ;  and  a  slight  awkwardness  in  ges 
ture,  or  a  slight  slip  in  pronunciation  would  be  noted, 
and  might  shut  out  all  the  good  effect  of  the  sermon. 
But  here,  among  these  people,  who  sadly  mutilated  the 
king's  English,  and  had  not  on  an  average  five  dollars 
ahead  in  the  world,  such  matters  as  accent,  and  angle  of 
gesture,  and  inflection  of  tone  seemed  trifling  indeed ; 
and  he  was  deeply  moved  —  not  to  "  preach,"  as  a  pulpit 
effort,  but  to  tell  them  what  would  help  them  to  bear 
their  trials,  and  not  become  discouraged,  and  would  lead 
them  to  greater  faith  in  the  boon  of  life  which  had  been 
granted  them,  shadowed  and  defiled  as  that  life  too  often 
was.  So  he  spoke  with  real  power,  and  the  people  came 
in,  some  of  them  slinking  into  rear  seats,  in  readiness 
for  easy  retreat  if  they  were  bored ;  and  gradually 
there  had  come  to  a  consciousness  of  itself  a  veritable 
permanent  congregation.  This  and  the  Sunday-school 
were  the  first  two  oases  in  this  desert  of  the  North  Side  ; 
and  Lawrence  gave  himself  to  their  strengthening  and 
expansion,  with  joyous  zeal. 

As  for  Uncle  Ben  Birch,  he  was  as  good  as  his  word; 
and  presented  himself,  one  Sunday  morning,  at  the 
chapel,  with  his  violin  wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  brown 
paper,  tied  with  a  cord  large  enough  to  hang  an  under 
sized  murderer.  Lawrence  was  a  little  anxious,  as  he 
discerned  the  solemn,  red,  rotund  visage  of  the  old  man 
at  the  door.  He  did  not  dare  to  endanger  the  order 
and  seriousness  of  his  morning  service,  by  allowing 


FREEMAN'S   CHAPEL  151 

Uncle  Ben  to  take  part  in  it.  How  good  or  ill  the 
violin  playing  would  be  he  had  no  idea.  Still,  he  would 
not,  for  the  world,  have  hurt  the  kind  old  creature's 
feelings,  if  it  possibly  could  be  avoided ;  and,  as  he 
walked  down  the  aisle  to  meet  him,  he  resolved  to  sug 
gest  that  the  violin  help  be  given  to  the  Sunday-school, 
which  would  come  directly  after  the  regular  service. 

This  transfer  of  auxiliary  force  was  successfully  accom 
plished  ;  and  Uncle  Ben  sat  through  the  service,  violin 
beside  him,  and  seemed  much  edified.  Lawrence,  who 
was  himself  musical,  could  hear  the  old  man  sing,  dur 
ing  the  hymns,  and,  although  his  voice  was  cracked  and 
thin,  he  certainly  sang  on  the  key.  Mrs.  Freeman,  who 
played  the  small  cabinet  organ,  which  alone  sustained 
the  singing,  was  much  relieved  to  note  this  evidence  of 
musical  ear  in  the  would-be  violin  accompanist.  So, 
when  the  Sunday-school  hour  arrived,  both  the  minister 
and  his  wife  called  upon  Uncle  Ben,  with  confidence,  to 
lend  his  aid ;  and  he  proved  to  be  a  passably  good 
player,  keeping  perfect  time,  though  sometimes  ending 
up  one  of  the  more  rapid  tunes,  a  note  or  so  behind  the 
organ  and  school. 

From  that  time  on,  Uncle  Ben  became  one  of  the 
most  regular  helpers  at  the  chapel.  He  was  ready  to 
do  any  kind  of  work  that  was  needed.  Here  was 
opened  up  to  him  a  new  field  for  his  work  and  his  inter 
est.  Lawrence  was  assured  that  the  old  man  sounded 
the  praises  —  and  the  needs  of  the  chapel,  as  well  — 
among  his  group  of  aged  friends,  when  one  day  there 
was  brought  to  the  chapel  a  large  and  excellent  electric 
stereopticon.  With  it  came  a  note  from  old  Mrs.  Snow  ; 
and  the  wavering,  wandering  lines  of  chirography  in 
formed  Mr.  Freeman  of  her  great  interest  in  his  work, 
and  begged  him  to  accept  the  stereopticon,  adding  that 
if  he  would  direct  the  arranging  of  connecting  wires  to 


152  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

bring  in  the  electricity  from  the  street  wire,  she  would 
settle  for  this  work.  Also  she  added  that  she  would 
pay  for  twenty-five  dollars'  worth  of  slides  for  the  lantern, 
if  he  would  select  such  as  he  desired. 

This  unexpected  gift  was  easily  traceable  to  Uncle 
Ben's  earnestness  and  activity.  When  directly  charged 
with  the  responsibility  of  the  extremely  welcome  appa 
ratus,  the  old  man  made  no  response  to  the  humorous 
vein  in  which  Mr.  Freeman  spoke.  He  had,  seemingly, 
no  sense  of  humor,  whatever ;  but  he  answered,  with 
candid  deliberation  :  "  Wall,  yer  see,  I'd  heern  yer  say, 
a  number  er  times,  thet  yer  wished  yer  hed  one  er  them 
things  fer  yer  lectures,  an'  so  I  jest  tole  Mis'  Snow  thet 
I  reckoned  she'd  better  git  yer  one.  I  says  to  her,  says 
I,  '  Now,  Mis'  Snow,  yer  can  afford  it,  an'  he's  a  raal 
good  man,  an'  he's  a-doin'  of  a  fust-rate  work.'  An' 
she  said  she'd  see  'baout  it.  An'  I  said  ter  her,  jest 
afore  I  come  away,  I  says,  '  Naow,  don't  you  forgit  that 
marter,  Mis'  Snow,  will  yer  ? '  And  she  didn't." 

It  was  like  finding  one's  self  in  some  other  world 
than  this  complex  and  selfish  one,  to  hear  Uncle  Ben 
narrate  that  interview.  Mr.  Freeman  was  vastly 
amused,  as  well  as  deeply  grateful,  at  the  picture  of 
this  impoverished  old  man  coolly  advising  and  ingenu 
ously  urging  the  rich  old  widow  to  give  away  some  of 
her  money.  Evidently  the  two  old  white  heads  had 
understood  each  other  perfectly.  There  was  great  con 
fidence  on  both  sides,  —  that  confidence  which  can  come 
with  many  years  of  friendship,  but  does  not  always ; 
the  old  dame  taking  the  advice  concerning  her  purse, 
in  exactly  the  way  it  was  offered,  and  Uncle  Ben 
reasonably  sure  that  "  Mis'  "  Snow  needed  only  to  be 
told  by  him  of  a  good  opportunity  to  give  away  a  hun 
dred  or  two  dollars,  and  she  would  straightway  respond. 

So  the  stereopticon  was  duly  installed  in  the  chapel, 


FREEMAN'S   CHAPEL  153 

and  was  very  serviceable  in  lectures  and  talks  —  not 
only  on  science  and  history  and  art,  but  even  with 
subjects  of  an  industrial  and  sociological  character.  Mr. 
Freeman  had  some  inward  debate,  at  first,  as  to  whether 
he  would  give  these  lectures  and  talks  in  the  one  large 
room  or  auditorium  of  the  chapel.  There  were  several 
small  rooms,  below  stairs,  and  at  the  back  ;  but  the 
chapel  hall  itself  was  the  only  large  space  available. 
The  minister  had  certain  ritualistic  or  ceremonial  fibres 
in  his  nature,  which  made  him  shrink,  somewhat,  from 
using  one  and  the  same  room  for  both  secular  instruc 
tion  and  divine  worship;  but  he  felt  that  he  had  no 
choice  in  the  matter  —  the  one  large  hall  was  his  only 
available  space.  He  was  too  delicately  devout  to  say, 
as  do  some,  that  all  God's  truth  —  whether  in  science  or 
poetry  —  is  divine,  and  therefore  one  kind  should  be  as 
sacredly  treated  as  another.  Mr.  Freeman's  own  fine 
instincts  told  him  that,  although  in  some  moments  of 
chemical  research  or  anthropological  inquiry,  a  student 
might  be  lifted  into  a  worshipful  frame  of  mind,  yet, 
during  the  larger  portion  of  the  time,  the  student's 
mind  is  on  a  level  distinctly  less  fervent  and  spirit 
ual  than  the  level  of  worship  and  communion  with 
God.  Therefore,  while  the  minister  welcomed  truth, 
as  a  message  of  God,  in  whatever  field  of  inquiry  it  was 
attained,  yet  he  was  guided  by  his  own  experience  and 
his  own  laws  of  soul  impression,  and  knew  that  pure, 
heartfelt  worship  was  higher  than  the  most  earnest 
intellectual  search  for  facts. 

Accordingly,  it  was  with  a  degree  of  reluctance  that 
he  gave  up  his  finer  preference,  and  used  the  chapel 
for  purposes  of  instruction  as  well  as  worship.  As  a 
rule,  the  meetings,  both  those  for  worship  and  those  for 
talks  and  discussions,  were  orderly.  Lawrence  was 
greatly  pleased  when  he  found,  among  the  men  who 


154  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

came  to  the  chapel,  one  or  two  who  would  act  as  pre 
siding  officer,  at  the  debates  on  theological  and  ethical 
and  economic  themes.  The  minister  rejoiced  to  see 
that  the  men  —  all  of  them  hard  workers  —  had  grown, 
in  a  sense  of  order  and  self-control,  enough  to  manage 
their  own  meeting ;  and  he  preferred  sitting  off  at  one 
side,  and  taking  part,  exactly  like  the  others,  in  arguing 
or  elucidating  some  point  of  morals  or  government  or 
theology.  It  was  really  from  these  free  open  meetings 
that  he  drew  many  of  his  suggestions  about  sermons  ; 
he  saw  the  prejudices  and  irrationalities  of  these  men's 
thought,  and  the  aims  and  ambitions  of  their  hearts,  so 
clearly,  that  he  was  constrained  to  preach  to  them  lov 
ingly,  on  the  higher  interpretation  of  their  own  daily 
lives.  A  text,  which  he  had  once  seen  on  the  front  of 
a  pulpit  in  an  Italian  Protestant  church  at  Bologna, 
had  strongly  appealed  to  him ;  and  he  had  himself 
painted  it  on  the  front  panel  of  his  own  little  pulpit. 
"Veritas  in  Carita"  was  now  publicly  his  standard,  as 
a  preacher  ;  and  he  was  surprised,  many  times  over,  to 
see  what  severely  admonitory  forms  of  address  these 
people  would  receive,  —  both  in  the  mass  and  as  individ 
uals,  —  so  long  as  a  really  disinterested  good-will  and 
affection  went  with  the  words.  Yet  how  easy  for  the 
preacher  to  mistake  a  peevish,  fretful,  fault-finding 
mood,  in  himself,  for  one  of  disinterested  pastoral 
counsel!  Several  times  Mr.  Freeman  fell  into  this 
error,  and  was  warned  against  it  by  the  expression  of 
some  antagonism  in  a  face  before  him,  or  some  tone  in 
the  voice  of  the  man  or  woman  whom  he  was  advising. 
But  loving  sympathy,  warm  and  self-forgetful  and 
ready  to  sacrifice  for  the  person  counselled  —  this 
would  carry  words  of  plainest  and  most  unwelcome 
advice. 

With  regard  to  the  formal  organization  of  the  people 


FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL  155 

into  some  kind  of  society  or  church,  Freeman  waited 
half  a  year  before  seeing  his  path  plainly.  He  was 
aware  that  there  was  no  pressing  need  of  taking  this 
step  of  organizing,  and  he  much  preferred  to  wait  until 
the  people  knew  and  trusted  him.  When  the  time  did 
come  for  forming  some  organization,  Freeman  followed, 
as  closely  as  possible,  the  simplicity  of  the  early  church. 
The  extraordinary  divergences  that  had  come  about,  in 
the  modern  Christian  churches,  from  the  simple  group 
life  of  the  churches  founded  at  Jerusalem  and  Corinth 
and  Ephesus  —  these  always  had  troubled  him. 

In  those  early  days  of  the  new  religion,  men  and 
women  who  enrolled  themselves  in  one  group,  as  be 
lievers,  as  followers  of  Christ,  were  largely  of  similar 
education  and  taste  and  even  of  wealth.  Therefore 
they  were  congenial,  one  with  another ;  they  were  of 
one  great  family ;  they  thought  in  similar  ways,  and  felt 
in  similar  ways,  and  knew  and  could  minister  to  one 
another's  needs.  In  short  they  were  —  as  we  would 
express  it  to-day  —  on  one  social  and  mental  plane; 
and  intercourse  among  them  was  natural  and  easy. 
But  to-day  the  churches  comprise  very  diverse  kinds 
of  tastes  and  temperaments  and  degrees  of  education. 
Diversity  in  the  possession  of  wealth  is  not  an  intrinsic 
vital  difference  which  should  separate  men ;  but  taste 
and  manners  and  education  are.  And  Mr.  Freeman  saw 
that  the  hypocrisy  and  absurdity,  which  honeycombed 
many  of  the  so-called  Christian  churches,  lay  chiefly  in 
this  :  that  they  were  made  up  of  persons  who,  theoreti 
cally,  were  brethren  and  in  close  sympathy,  but  were 
really  diverse  and  out  of  touch  with  one  another,  in 
real  and  unavoidable  ways,  quite  as  much  as  in  artificial 
and  wilfully  selfish  ways. 

In  times  of  great  emotion,  in  crises  of  fear  or  pain 
or  joy,  individuals  who  are  very  diverse  can  temporarily 


156  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

unite,  as  at  the  time  of  an  accident,  or  in  a  public 
rejoicing  over  a  military  victory,  or  at  a  death-bed ;  but 
these  unusual  unions  of  diverse  natures  are  necessarily 
brief,  and  cease  when  the  strong  emotion  which  held 
them  dies  out.  One  great  altruistic  emotion,  like  that 
of  Christ's  for  human  beings,  can  break  down  these 
separating  walls  of  division;  but  so  great  a  force, 
so  full  a  measure  of  the  "passion  of  humanity,"  is 
not  to  be  expected  of  most  people ;  and  it  exists  in  but 
few  churches  which  have  attained  any  considerable 
age.  With  the  beginners  of  a  sect,  and  under  the  zeal 
of  founding  the  society,  a  brief  period  of  entire  corporate 
sympathy  may  be  expected ;  but  it  soon  dies  out,  as 
divergences  in  taste  and  education  creep  in. 

Freeman  was  influenced,  considerably,  in  the  form 
which  he  gave  his  organization,  by  the  excellent  order 
known  as  "  Odd  Fellows."  And  the  members  of  the 
"  Freeman  Chapel  League  "  took  pledges  upon  them 
selves  to  maintain  public  worship  and  to  minister  to 
one  another's  needs ;  and  they  took  this  pledge  each 
new  year,  and  paid  quarterly  fees  of  two  dollars.  Since 
Mr.  Marshall  and  his  friend  bore  the  expenses  of  the 
chapel  itself,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freeman  supported 
themselves  by  teaching  and  writing  and  on  Mrs.  Free 
man's  little  income,  this  money  paid  in  made  up  a  fund 
which  was  drawn  upon  by  sick  members.  Thus  the 
society  took  on  the  manly  character  of  a  mutually 
helpful  order,  and  yet  gave  opportunity  for  the  cultiva 
tion  of  the  religious  aspirations  as  well. 

Interesting  as  was  this  part  of  Lawrence's  work,  he 
had  had  enough  experience  with  people,  young  and  old, 
to  know  that  for  really  appreciable  growth  in  character 
—  moral  and  religious  —  the  work  among  boys  and  girls, 
under  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age,  was  far  more  im 
portant  than  that  among  their  elders.  Such  work  is 


FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL  157 

often  deemed  less  dignified,  and  is  less  highly  honored 
than  many  "  reforms  "  among  grown-up  people,  which 
absorb  much  time  and  money,  give  rise  to  many  public 
meetings,  and  never  really  reform  anybody.  Any  can 
did  person,  who  has  carefully  studied  reform-work, 
among  grown-up  people,  and  compared  it  with  a  true 
educational  work  among  children,  cannot  fail  to  see  how 
vastly  more  productive  is  the  work  among  the  children ; 
surprising  changes  for  the  better  can  be  noticed  among 
the  latter,  in  habits  and  speech  and  points  of  view,  in 
a  very  short  time.  Of  course,  the  wisest  method  of 
reforming  and  regenerating  the  world  —  at  least  the 
so-called  civilized  world  —  would  be  to  go  straight  down 
to  the  physiological  basis,  and  apply,  first  of  all,  most 
of  the  rules  and  restrictions  to  the  human  species,  which 
cattle-breeders  already  apply  to  lower  species.  Such 
methods,  evolved  from  medical  science,  would  solve 
fundamentally  many  of  the  problems  of  vice  and  dis 
ease,  with  which  human  energy  now  hopelessly  wrestles, 
and  for  which  it  pours  out  torrents  of  gold. 

But  such  fundamental  reforms  are  impossible  at  pres 
ent  ;  people  in  general  are  too  irrational,  and  too  closely 
wedded  to  old  Hebraistic  ideals,  and  time-honoured 
customs,  and  morbid  sentiments.  Failing  this  radical 
method,  therefore,  the  method  which  comes  nearest  to 
it  must  serve  the  world's  purpose ;  and  that  is  none 
other  than  to  take  each  new  generation,  at  as  early  a 
period  as  possible,  and  remake  it,  —  fighting  heredity, 
and  beating  off  and  out-witting  environment, — while 
the  young  natures  are  still  "in  the  green  fibre,"  as  is 
said  of  plants  and  twigs. 

Looking  at  these  matters  in  this  way,  Lawrence  Free 
man  believed  that  while,  in  his  work,  certain  results 
among  the  older  people  might  make  a  showing  in 
chapel  attendance  or  savings-bank  accounts  or  improved 


i58  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

homes,  yet  the  really  permanent  good,  in  largest  meas 
ure  to  the  world,  was  to  come  out  in  the  later  lives  of 
the  children  whom  he  could  awaken  to  higher  aims,  and 
arouse  to  purer  and  nobler  conduct.  Therefore,  he  gave 
much  thought  to  the  children  and  young  people,  and 
counted  his  time  and  strength  well  expended,  when  used 
in  their  service.  He  believed  that  it  was  not  enough  to 
gather  those  dirty,  rough,  noisy,  profane  children  in 
large  groups  in  some  hall ;  that  was  but  a  small  part  of 
what  he  aimed  to  do.  He  had  found,  by  previous  ex 
perience,  that  children,  like  grown  people,  when  gathered 
in  a  mass,  remain  intrenched  in  their  accustomed  habits 
of  thought  and  will ;  but  if  separated  into  small  groups 
of  five,  or  three,  or  —  best  of  all — two,  and  put  under 
the  wholesome  influence  of  an  older,  wiser,  more  loving 
nature  —  that  is  the  situation  which  carries  the  great 
est  possibilities  of  reform,  of  regeneration  ;  that  union 
of  two  kinds  of  atoms  —  weak  evil  with  strong  good, 
feeble  depravity  with  earnest  virtue,  vacillating  down 
ward  purpose  with  fixed  upward  will  —  that  union  of 
those  two  sociological  atoms  forms  the  molecule  of  po 
tential  reform  for  all  social  ills  and  diseases. 

Therefore,  Lawrence  had  arranged  a  half  dozen  small 
rooms,  well  lighted,  back  of  the  chapel  hall  and  below 
it ;  and  here  were  gathered,  on  certain  appointed  even 
ings  in  the  week,  little  groups  —  two,  three,  or  perhaps 
four  in  number  —  of  boys  or  girls  around  a  table  and  a 
leader.  These  leaders  were  himself,  his  wife,  Mrs. 
Guthrie,  Ned  and  Olive  Marshall,  and  several  more  per 
sons,  a  part  from  Emmanuel  Church  and  a  part  from 
the  North  Side  itself.  The  minister  actually  refused 
one  or  two  zealous  applicants  for  enrolment  in  the  work, 
because  he  believed  they  were  not  fitted  to  properly  im 
press  the  young  people,  whom  they  sought  to  instruct 
and  influence.  Thus  there  were  never  to  be  seen  such 


FREEMAN'S   CHAPEL  159 

riotous  demonstrations,  in  and  near  "Freeman's  Chapel," 
as  often  are  seen  in  or  near  many  "boys'  clubs,"  —  mob- 
like  demonstrations,  which  serve  only  to  deepen  the 
lawless  instincts  in  those  boys'  hearts,  and  to  make  in 
effective  all  appeals  to  the  finer  feelings,  which  might  be 
successfully  made,  if  the  lads  were  taken  separately  or 
in  very  small  groups. 

Lawrence  Freeman  had  a  real  faculty  for  getting  on 
with  children.  This  faculty  is  not,  as  many  people 
falsely  fancy,  a  faculty  based  on  goodness  and  earnest 
ness  of  disposition,  and  on  the  child's  perception  of  this ; 
it  may  exist  in  natures  that  are  selfish  and  deceitful 
and  brutish.  It  is  largely  a  matter  of  sympathy  and  the 
absence  of  self-consciousness ;  and  Freeman,  who  had 
been  shy  and  even  self-distrustful  in  the  pulpit,  before 
adult  people,  here,  among  children,  was  singularly  free 
and  confident.  So  he  knew  scores  of  boys  and  girls, 
and  had  their  respect  and  confidence.  The  self-control 
which  he  had  gained  stood  him  in  good  stead  also. 
There  is  no  quality  which  more  commands  the  respect 
of  young  people,  themselves  prone  to  yield  to  passing 
emotions,  than  firm  self-control.  The  older  person,  who 
carries  himself  calmly  and  equably  through  a  scene 
of  passion,  wins  high  praise  from  his  juniors.  He  may 
have  few  strong  and  noble  emotions,  and  older  people, 
perceiving  this,  may  shun  or  hate  him ;  but,  for  youth's 
approval,  equanimity  is  one  of  the  highest  qualities,  and 
when  wedded  to  intelligent  sympathy,  can  lead  the  chil 
dren  as  persuasively  as  did  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin. 

When  Freeman  went  along  the  street,  he  frequently 
was  greeted,  frankly  and  confidently,  by  one  and 
another  boy  or  girl ;  and  this  naive  testimony  to  his 
natural  and  friendly  relations  with  them  was  much 
enjoyed  by  him.  One  evening,  as  he  was  approaching 
the  neighborhood  where  he  lived,  he  passed  a  small  lad 


160  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

who  had  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  an  expression  of  anxiety 
on  his  face.  So  soon  as  the  boy  recognized  the  minis 
ter,  he  ran  up  to  him  and  burst  out  impulsively,  "  Oh, 
Mr.  Freeman,  can't  you  go  and  stop  daddy  ?  Can't  you 
stop  him  ? " 

"  Why,  my  child,  what  is  the  matter  ?  What  do  you 
mean  ? "  asked  Lawrence,  stopping  and  putting  his 
hand  affectionately  on  the  child's  head. 

The  boy  had  burst  out  afresh  into  weeping,  so  soon 
as  he  had  spoken,  evidently  transferring  his  burden  of 
anxiety  to  his  trusted  older  friend.  But  now,  realizing 
that  he  had  not  made  clear  what  his  trouble  was,  he 
curbed  his  grief  and  sobbed,  "  Daddy's  been  beating 
mammy,  and  now  he's  gone  back  to  the  saloon ;  and 
he's  took  Nelly  with  him.  Oh  —  oh  !  " 

Lawrence  was  too  familiar  with  the  lower  phases  of 
local  life  to  need  further  explanation  of  the  boy's  tears. 
"  Which  saloon  has  he  gone  to  ? "  he  asked ;  for,  alas, 
there  were  many  in  the  neighborhood. 

"That  one  down  there!"  sobbed  the  child.  "That 
one  at  the  corner  of  Pig  Alley." 

"Very  well!"  said  Lawrence,  in  a  comforting  tone 
of  voice.  "  Now  you  go  back  home,  and  I  will  see 
what  can  be  done." 

The  child  at  once  started,  on  the  run,  and  seemed  to 
feel  sure  that  the  right  thing  would  now  be  done  by  the 
minister.  Lawrence  knew  the  family,  and  was  aware 
that  the  man  often  drank  heavily,  and  sometimes  was 
abusive  to  his  wife  and  children.  Evidently  he  had 
already  drunk  too  much,  and  was  now  reckless  and 
brutal.  His  taking  his  little  girl  with  him,  as  he  went 
to  get  more  liquor,  was  indicative  of  this.  The  minis 
ter  saw  his  duty  clearly.  He  must  go  straight  down 
to  that  den  and  try  to  get  the  man  away. 

He    walked    rapidly   along    the    street,   toward   the 


FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL  161 

saloon.  A  little  group  of  people  had  gathered  near 
the  boy  as  the  minister  had  talked  with  him,  and  this 
group  now  scattered,  going  their  various  ways,  with  the 
exception  of  one  man.  That  man  was  the  big  fellow, 
Jim  Kelsey,  who  followed  the  minister,  with  a  vague 
protective  interest  in  his  grateful  heart,  and,  unperceived, 
he  entered  the  saloon  just  behind  Lawrence. 

The  bar-room  was  one  of  the  lowest  of  its  kind,  and 
made  very  little  pretence  at  display  of  gaudy  furnish 
ings.  A  bar  ran  across  one  end,  several  casks  stood  in 
a  row  at  the  back,  and  the  proprietor,  a  huge,  pimply- 
faced  fellow  in  shirt-sleeves  and  with  disordered  hair, 
was  serving  beer  and  whiskey  to  the  half  dozen  seedy- 
looking  customers  who  lounged  on  the  counter.  Law 
rence  at  once  saw  his  man  ;  he  knew  him,  somewhat, 
personally,  and  the  little  girl,  whom  the  man  held  by 
the  hand,  served  additionally  to  indicate  him.  He  had 
just  finished  a  glass  of  some  strong  stuff,  and  was  call 
ing  for  more.  "Pass  it  along!"  he  growled;  "I've 
got  the  rocks."  And  he  flipped  a  silver  piece  on  to  the 
bar. 

Although  he  was  plainly  the  worse  for  liquor,  already, 
the  barkeeper  did  not  hesitate,  but  took  the  money 
and  was  about  to  replenish  the  empty  glass.  At  this 
point  Lawrence  stepped  forward  and  said  quietly,  but 
with  decision  in  his  voice,  "  You  mustn't  give  that  man 
any  more."  And  he  looked  the  proprietor  straight  in 
the  eyes,  and  waited. 

He  hoped  that  the  matter  could  be  settled  without 
any  disturbance;  but  the  barkeeper  was  an  unscrupu 
lous  and  violent  man,  and  flamed  up  in  an  instant. 
"  Who  in  hell  are  you  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  savagely,  glar 
ing  at  the  minister,  who  was  fully  six  inches  shorter 
than  himself,  but  of  an  unmistakable  "  square-built," 
athletic  appearance.  "  Comin'  in  here  an'  meddlin'?" 


1 62  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

"  This  man  has  had  enough,"  replied  Lawrence. 
"You  know  the  law  about  selling  to  a  person  in  his 
condition."  And  he  laid  his  hand  gently  on  the  drunk 
ard's  arm  and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  Now,  come  along, 
won't  you  ?  Let's  take  little  Nelly  back  home  !  " 

The  man's  face  softened,  as  he  recognized  Freeman, 
and  he  stood  rather  stupidly  quiet  and  undecided.  The 
other  drinkers  now  took  notice  of  the  situation,  and 
evinced  a  growing  interest.  The  bar-keeper's  wrath 
increased.  "  You  damned,  meddlin'  parson,"  he  roared, 
"I'll  learn  you  to  mind  your  own  business."  And  he 
strode  out  around  the  end  of  the  bar,  and  came  up  to 
the  minister,  with  red  face  purpling,  and  eyes  full  of 
wrath. 

Lawrence  knew  that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  serious 
trouble.  His  heart  beat  rapidly,  and  his  face  felt  hot ; 
but,  as  he  wheeled  about,  letting  go  his  hold  on  the 
drunken  man's  arm,  and  faced  his  assailant,  nobody 
could  detect — and  most  of  those  present  were  skilled 
observers  in  such  matters  —  any  sign  of  undue  excite 
ment  in  his  manner. 

The  two  faced  each  other,  without  a  word,  for  a  few 
seconds.  Lawrence's  unflinching  eye  and  unexpected 
self-poise  rather  puzzled  the  ruffian ;  but  he  was  bent 
on  mischief,  and  felt  that  he  had  easy  work  before  him. 
Luckily  he  was  a  bit  slow  in  his  muscles,  and  when 
he  drew  back  his  fist,  which  he  now  did,  Lawrence's 
quick,  sure  eye  and  his  college  athletics  gave  him  ample 
warning  of  the  character  of  the  blow.  There  was  a 
clumsy  feint  with  the  left,  and  then  a  straight-out  blow 
with  the  right,  which,  if  it  had  hit  its  mark,  would  have 
badly  battered  the  clergyman's  countenance.  But  when 
the  arm,  with  its  rolled-up,  soiled  shirt,  reached  its  full 
extension,  Lawrence's  head  was  about  four  inches  away 
on  one  side ;  and,  in  that  moment  of  expended  energy 


FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL  163 

and  disturbed  equilibrium,  the  bloated  bar-keeper  was 
open  to  a  counter-blow,  which  Lawrence  knew  well  how 
to  give ;  and  all  his  self-control  was  needed  to  restrain 
him  from  giving  it.  The  old  sparring  habit  asserted 
itself,  and  he  would  have  liked  greatly  to  give  the 
"counter"  which  the  open  situation  invited.  But  he 
must  not.  He  must  not.  He  felt  all  his  muscles  rise 
into  nervous  tension.  His  right  arm  grew  rigid,  and 
his  hand  closed  on  itself,  despite  all  his  efforts  to  restrain 
it.  But  no  more.  He  stepped  back,  a  pace  or  two.  He 
earnestly  desired  to  get  out  of  this  dreadful  fracas,  with 
out  disgracing  himself,  and  defeating  the  purpose  with 
which  he  had  come.  Still,  there  was  no  telling  what 
would  happen  next.  He  believed  he  could  protect  him 
self  from  this  big,  clumsy,  drink-soaked  ruffian ;  but  to 
do  it  by  blows  —  that  he  deeply  dreaded. 

The  other  inmates  of  the  room  stood  looking  on,  with 
much  apparent  delight.  Street  fights  and  bar-room 
rows  were  not  of  themselves  novelties,  but  this  one, 
with  a  bar-keeper  and  a  parson  as  principals  —  this 
offered  a  pleasing  variation  on  the  usual  kinds. 

At  this  point  one  of  the  loafers  called  out,  "  Say, 
Mike,  the  feller's  game ;  better  leave  him  alone  ! " 

"  Curse  him  !  "  spluttered  the  bar-keeper,  boiling  with 
perplexity  and  fury.  "I'll  learn  him.  I'll  give  him 
wot  he'll  carry  away  with  him."  And,  casting  a  glance 
at  the  counter,  he  stepped  back,  snatched  a  big  black 
bottle  from  it,  and  came  at  the  minister  with  a  rush. 

Matters  looked  threatening  for  "the  cloth,"  in  that 
instant.  There  was  no  question  of  the  brute's  intention. 
One  more  second  and  his  shorter  antagonist  would  need 
to  evolve  some  very  clever  lines  of  defence,  or  be  bat 
tered  to  the  floor. 

But  something  happened.  It  was  Jim  Kelsey  who 
happened.  He  had  already  happened  in,  as  we  have 


1 64  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

seen,  closely  and  quietly  behind  Freeman,  and  he  now 
happened  to  be  standing  near  him  as  the  savage  bar 
keeper  raised  the  heavy  black  bottle  for  a  murderous 
blow.  And  then,  ere  that  blow  could  fall,  his  great 
bony  fist  and  powerful  arm  shot  out  and  across,  and 
knocked  bar-keeper  and  bottle,  in  a  demoralized  heap,  to 
the  floor,  and  into  a  corner  between  the  counter  and  a 
large  stove. 

It  was  a  wicked  blow,  and  the  man  on  the  floor  lay 
very  still  for  several  seconds.  "  You  damned  rum- 
slinger,"  muttered  Jini,  who  was  by  no  means  to  be 
numbered  among  the  saints,  but  knew  a  real  friend 
when  he  had  one.  "You  everlastin'  whiskey  bum,  I'll 
learn  you  somethin'."  And  he  stood  over  the  prostrate 
wretch,  glancing  down  on  him  as  if  he  wished  he  would 
get  up  and  offer  opportunity  for  more  instruction. 

There  was  a  painful  silence  throughout  the  place,  for 
several  seconds.  The  bar-keeper  stayed  on  the  floor. 
Then  Jim  constituted  himself  master  of  ceremonies,  and 
took  the  drunken  father  by  the  arm,  with  little  Nelly 
still  clinging  to  his  hand,  and  led  him,  unresisting,  out  of 
the  door.  Lawrence  Freeman  followed,  and  when  all 
were  outside,  he  suddenly  stopped.  "  Wait  a  moment, 
Jim,"  said  he ;  "I  wish  to  know  who  owns  this  building, 
this  property.  I  may  like  to  tell  him  about  his  tenant. 
Or  I  may  report  the  bar-keeper  to  the  police.  They  will 
take  away  his  license  if  I  suggest  it.  He  was  selling  to 
this  man  when  the  man  was  in  bad  condition,  as  you 
saw." 

"Just  as  you  say,"  assented  Jim,  cheerfully.  "Only 
I  happen  to  know  who  the  owner  is.  Wilbur  Blaney  is 
his  name,  and  he  — 

"  Are  you  sure  about  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Lawrence,  in 
some  surprise,  for  he  had  commonly  understood  that 
Blaney  hadn't  a  cent  in  the  world. 


FREEMAN'S  CHAPEL  165 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am,"  said  Jim.  "  I  know  one  of  the  fam 
ilies  upstairs,  and  they  pay  rent  to  Blaney." 

"  Perhaps  Blaney  is  only  an  agent  for  somebody  else," 
suggested  Lawrence,  speaking  chiefly  to  himself.  How 
ever,  he  turned  and  walked  away,  and  accompanied  the 
three  to  the  house  where  the  father  and  child  lived.  At 
that  point  Jim  suggested  that  the  minister  leave  the 
case  in  his  hands ;  and  as  he  had  certainly  managed  it 
well  so  far,  and  as  Lawrence  had  not  yet  eaten  his  third 
meal  for  that  day,  Jim  was  intrusted  with  the  case, 
and  the  minister  walked  slowly  and  thoughtfully  to  his 
home. 

As  fortune  had  it,  he  found  Mr.  Marshall  sitting  with 
Mrs.  Freeman,  having  come  over  to  ask  about  certain 
repairs  on  the  roof  of  the  chapel.  After  these  matters 
were  decided  upon,  Lawrence  recounted  the  affair  in 
the  saloon,  much  to  Mrs.  Freeman's  uneasiness.  Then 
came  naturally  the  query  about  Blaney's  ownership  of 
the  building.  Mr.  Marshall  knew  the  property,  or  had 
noticed  it,  and  was  surprised  at  the  suggestion  that 
Blaney  owned  it.  "  Why,  we've  always  considered  that 
Blaney  just  lived  from  hand  to  mouth,"  he  remarked, 
"  and  we  never  expected  him  to  do  anything  toward 
expenses  in  the  church.  That  property  isn't  worth 
much,  but  still,  if  he  really  owns  it,  he's  worth  a  great 
deal  more  than  most  people  suppose." 

"  Blaney  is  a  discouraging  type,  from  the  moral  and 
spiritual  point  of  view,"  remarked  Lawrence,  "but  as  a 
study  in  human  nature,  he  is  most  interesting.  He  has 
a  quick,  clear  mind  —  almost  a  brilliant  mind ;  but  he 
never  has  seemed  to  accomplish  anything.  He  has  had 
a  try  at  all  sorts  of  things,  too.  I  have  often  thought,  as 
I  have  analyzed  him,  that  if  he  had  started  in  academic 
ways,  he  might  have  known  and  taught  one  of  the 
sciences,  or  a  language,  extremely  well.  He  is  a  born 


1 66  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

teacher.  What  a  pity  that  he  didn't  happen  to  turn 
that  way,  instead  of  failing  at  so  many  kinds  of  busi 
ness  !  Let  me  see,  what  is  he  engaged  in  just  now  ?  " 

"  Insurance,"  said  Mr.  Marshall.  "  He  is  an  agent  for 
the  Great  Northern  Fire  and  Marine  Company.  Our 
church  property  is  insured  there.  He  does  better  at 
that  than  at  anything  he's  tried,  so  I'm  told ;  but  that 
isn't  saying  much.  Why,  a  few  of  us  made  up  a  couple 
of  hundred  dollars  for  him,  three  years  ago ;  he  was  in 
bad  straits."  Then  the  clear-headed  miller  relapsed  for 
a  moment  into  a  revery,  and  presently  remarked  :  "  I 
don't  see  how  he  can  own  property  like  that.  I  —  I  — 
well,  I  don't  quite  like  the  looks  of  things."  And  he 
tugged  away  at  his  big,  bushy,  black  beard,  and  buried 
his  nose  in  it  and  bit  at  it,  as  if  thus  he  could  solve  the 
mystery. 

"  I  may  take  a  little  time,"  he  continued,  "  and  inquire 
into  the  matter.  Yes,  I  think  I  will." 

And  after  a  little  general  conversation,  he  grasped  his 
hat,  bade  his  friends  good  night,  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER   XI 

A    PULPIT    SUCCESS 

"  He  preached  upon  '  breadth,1  till  it  argued  him  narrow  — 
The  broad  are  too  broad  to  define ; 
And  of  truth  until  it  proclaimed  him  a  liar  — 
The  truth  never  flaunted  a  sign." 

—  EMILY  DICKINSON. 

LET  it  be  borne  in  mind  that  in  Emmanuel  Church,  as 
in  most  churches,  there  was  a  certain  number  of  people 
who  saw  what  were  the  true  aims  of  a  religious  organi 
zation,  and  desired  to  have  these  aims  realized,  by  rea 
sonable  and  proper  methods.  But  such  persons,  from 
their  very  delicacy  of  feeling  and  sound  sense  of  pro 
priety,  are  usually  not  much  in  public  view,  and  their 
voices  not  loudly  and  aggressively  raised.  In  Em 
manuel  Church  this  element  waited  and  hoped,  and 
tried  to  be  pleased  with  whatever  policy  was  adopted., 
As  a  whole  the  church  had  now  obtained  what  it  had 
desired.  In  changes  of  pastorate,  a  church  usually 
seeks,  instinctively,  in  a  new  minister,  qualities  opposite 
to  those  of  the  retiring  incumbent ;  and,  doing  this,  it 
usually  gains  opposite  merits  and  also  opposite  defects. 
If  the  former  minister  was  light  complexioned,  then 
dark-haired  candidates  will  strike  the  congregation's 
eyes  with  favor.  If  the  former  minister  was  short  in 
stature,  the  new  one  must  be  tall ;  and  so  on,  through 
all  qualities,  physical  and  mental. 

In  accordance  with  this  law  of  contrasts,  the  Rev. 
Ronald  Carnaquay,  D.D.,  was  very  acceptable,  from 

167 


1 68  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

almost  every  point  of  view.  He  was  dark,  tall,  bold, 
fluent,  and  held  a  very  high  opinion  of  his  own  value. 
Mr.  Freeman  could  be  bold  and  even  fluent  at  times. 
When  some  humane  cause  sought  support  at  his  hands, 
or  some  great  truth  laid  hold  upon  him,  he  expressed 
himself  with  a  vigor  and  clearness  and  freedom,  which 
surprised  friends  and  confounded  opponents.  But,  or 
dinarily,  he  was  not  talkative  ;  partly  because  he  felt 
the  futility  of  much  of  the  public  declamation  which  is 
so  customary  in  this  country,  and  partly  that  he  did  not 
have  the  temperamental  loquacity  which  is  so  useful  to 
public  men,  especially  when  supplemented  by  tact  and 
discretion.  Carnaquay,  on  the  contrary,  dearly  loved 
to  talk.  The  mere  expression  of  his  ideas,  on  any  sub 
ject,  was  a  delight  to  him.  It  was,  primarily,  the  field 
which  the  ministry  offered  for  speechmaking,  which 
had  brought  him  into  it.  He  had,  too,  a  facile  mind, 
and  readiness  in  the  use  of  words.  The  result  was  that 
the  congregation  of  Emmanuel  Church  got  what  it 
wished  ;  their  pastor  was  —  as  they  often  affirmed  — 
"  a  pulpit  success." 

Carnaquay  was  a  fearless  man.  Fear  often  proceeds 
from  keen  perceptions  and  sensitive  apprehensions ; 
and  all  such  delicate  machinery  was  left  entirely  out  of 
the  new  minister's  make-up.  He  feared  neither  men 
nor  angels,  good  or  bad ;  and  he  loved  the  position  of 
domination  which  the  pulpit  afforded  him.  Neither 
reverence,  nor  delicacy  of  taste,  nor  sympathy,  was  an 
obstacle  to  his  free  expression  of  himself ;  and  this  gave 
him  a  satisfying  air  of  assurance,  as  he  preached,  but  it 
also  involved  defects.  He  played  havoc  with  the  ac 
cepted  tenets  of  theology,  and  became  known  speedily 
as  "a  very  advanced  thinker."  This  seeming  advance 
ment  of  his  proceeded  not  at  all  from  prolonged  and 
profound  study  and  reflection  and  serious  judgment, 


A  PULPIT  SUCCESS  169 

but  simply  from  his  lawlessness  of  mind.  He  knew  and 
cared  very  little  about  truth,  of  itself,  but  was  keenly 
alive  to  the  themes  and  emotions  which  were  good 
material  for  dramatic  presentation. 

Of  course  people  flocked  to  hear  him.  His  popularity 
was  quickly  established  ;  in  a  month,  after  his  arrival, 
the  congregation  was  doubled.  Then  it  became  still 
larger.  The  gallery  seats  grew  in  demand.  Not*  all 
who  came  rented  seats  at  first ;  but,  as  preference  was 
given  to  pewholders,  the  pews  soon  were  taken.  After 
that  chairs  were  brought  in,  and  every  nook  and  corner 
was  filled ;  even  the  platform  was  used,  and  Messrs. 
Blaney,  Mixer,  Pidge,  and  others  were  persuaded  to 
occupy  seats  in  this  elevated  position,  thus  throwing 
open  a  score  of  sittings  on  the  floor  of  the  church. 

Emmanuel  Church  prospered.  So  Dr.  Mixer  and 
others  said,  and  Mr.  Pidge's  books  ratified  the  judg 
ment.  Mr.  Pidge's  manner  took  on  an  unprecedented 
boldness.  He  felt  the  dignity  of  his  treasurership. 
When  bills  were  presented,  he  had  not  to  temporize 
and  explain,  as  formerly,  but  he  responded  promptly 
with  checks,  and  had  the  comfortable  sense  of  a  con 
siderable  surplus  instead  of  a  chronic  "  defissit."  Mr. 
Marshall  had  been  blandly  invited  by  the  minister  to 
join  the  other  dignitaries  of  the  church,  on  the  platform, 
at  public  services ;  but  he  awkwardly,  though  firmly, 
refused.  All  his  instincts  were  against  such  publicity. 
Carnaquay  read  him  fairly  well,  and  nearly  persuaded 
him,  by  appealing  to  him  as  an  official  of  the  church,  to 
do  this  distasteful  act  as  a  duty.  But  even  that  adroit 
appeal  failed,  and  the  stanch  mill-owner  sat  hidden 
away  in  the  midst  of  the  congregation,  and,  from  that 
shelter,  enjoyed  the  fluent  speech  and  fervid  declama 
tion  of  the  occupant  of  the  pulpit. 

As  Carnaquay's  success    became    assured,    his    style 


170  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

broadened,  and  his  self-confidence — never  conspicuously 
absent — became  even  more  pronounced.  He  strode 
back  and  forth,  on  the  front  edge  of  the  platform, 
like  an  admiral  on  the  quarter-deck,  with  his  ship  in 
hot  action.  He  brandished  books  high  above  his  head, 
and  dashed  them  to  the  floor,  in  an  excess  of  conviction. 
He  ran  his  long,  white  fingers  through  his  long,  black 
hair,  and  refuted  Plato,  Hegel,  Voltaire,  Thomas  Paine, 
and  many  others,  with  an  ease  and  speed  that  was  very 
pleasing  to  the  congregation.  It  did  not  so  much  sig 
nify  to  them  what  he  refuted  or  attacked  or  lauded,  so 
long  as  the  play  of  pyrotechnic  fires  went  on.  He  was 
masterly  at  vivid  narration,  was  Carnaquay.  If  he  had 
not  committed  himself  to  the  pulpit,  he  might  have  done 
something  as  a  fiction  writer.  Some  of  his  most  en 
trancing  discourses  were  composed,  almost  wholly,  of 
minute  descriptions  of  places  which  he  had  not  seen, 
glowing  narrations  of  events  which  never  happened, 
and  vivid  dialogues  between  persons  who  never  met. 
He  preferred  texts  which  did  not  hamper  his  exuberant 
fancy.  Give  him  one  hint  of  a  man's  character,  and  he 
would  build  up  a  structure  which  was  complete,  and 
would  reel  off  the  possible  experiences  of  that  man  as 
if  they  were  not  only  probabilities  but  certainties.  Let 
him  but  take  the  one  word,  "  Malchus," -  — the  name  of 
the  impulsive  Roman  soldier  whose  ear  was  smitten  off 
in  Gethsemane  by  Simon  Peter,  —  and  he  would  fill 
nearly  an  hour  with  the  history  of  that  obscure  individ 
ual,  giving  scenes  in  his  life,  as  if  by  a  contemporary, 
and  detailing  dialogues  and  soliloquies  as  if  taken  down 
by  a  shorthand  reporter.  Such  titles  as  "  Apples  of 
Gold  "  and  "A  Basket  of  Fruit  "  and  "  Priceless  Gems  " 
were  peculiarly  well  adapted  to  his  free  style.  They 
were  capable  of  being  turned  in  almost  any  direction,  — 
historic,  industrial,  poetic,  or  ethical,  —  and  they  were 


A  PULPIT  SUCCESS  171 

susceptible  of  limitless  illustration  by  anecdotes.  The 
books  most  regularly  used  by  him  were  collections  of 
anecdotes.  He  had  a  faculty  of  telling  these  stories  as 
if  he  had  seen  the  actions  of  the  participants ;  for  ex 
ample,  when  he  dressed  up  the  brief  scene  between 
Pyrrhus  and  Cineas,  giving  verbatim  and  in  extenso  the 
questions  and  replies  of  those  two  persons,  the  auditors 
felt  their  blood  tingle  sympathetically,  and  made  sure 
that  their  preacher  must  have  some  private  sources  of 
information,  quite  hidden  from  ordinary  historians. 

Yes,  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay  was  a  success  —  "a 
pulpit  success."  Mr.  Pidge  said,  in  an  awe-struck  tone, 
"  Our  minister  is  awful  smart ;  "  and  Dr.  Mixer  smiled 
silently,  and  sank  back  in  content  into  his  big  collar,  and 
the  thick  fold  of  adipose  tissue  around  his  neck  rolled 
up  into  the  roots  of  his  hair,  like  a  swelling  wave  that 
surges  up  the  beach  and  is  lost  amid  the  marsh-grass. 
Mr.  Blaney  wore  an  "  I  told  you  so "  air,  spoke  with 
cautious  approval,  and  at  times  intimated  that  the  pas 
tor's  style  of  oratory  was  about  the  sort  with  which  he 
himself  was  naturally  endowed,  if  only  he  had  chosen  to 
develop  it.  Also,  at  times,  among  intimate  friends,  as  a 
mark  of  confidence,  Blaney  kindly  pointed  out  defects 
in  the  preacher's  pronunciation,  and  spoke  of  the  im 
possibility  of  one  man's  possessing  all  the  virtues.  As 
for  Mr.  Marshall,  he  was  much  under  the  glamour  of 
the  reverend  gentleman's  art,  and  greatly  enjoyed  hear 
ing  him ;  yet,  at  times,  he  was  conscious  within  himself 
of  a  distrust  which  he  could  not  analyze.  Carnaquay, 
he  had  decided,  was  a  generous  man,  not  mean  and  nig 
gardly  ;  fully  qualified  to  look  after  his  own  interests  in 
all  his  business  transactions,  —  which  came,  at  times,  to 
Mr.  Marshall's  knowledge,  —  yet  easy  and  free  in  giving 
small  sums  to  various  needs  and  causes.  Perhaps  the 
most  puzzling  characteristic  of  the  fascinating  orator,  as 


172  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

studied  by  the  mill-owner,  was  the  way  he  had  of  praying 
with  eyes  wide  open  and  with  vigorous  gesticulations. 
Mr.  Marshall  was  a  man  of  sensitiveness  and  reverence, 
and  he  could  hardly  credit  his  eyesight  when,  one  day 
in  church  during  the  prayer-time,  as  he  lifted  his  head 
to  reach  after  his  handkerchief,  he  discovered  that  the 
preacher  was  offering  prayer  in  this  singular  and,  to 
him,  almost  sacrilegious  fashion.  To  be  sure,  the  Rev. 
Ronald's  prayers  were  never  to  be  distinguished,  in  voice 
or  spirit,  from  his  sermons.  You  needed  the  assistance 
of  eyesight,  to  determine  which  kind  of  address  it  was. 
His  sermons  were  generally  strong-voiced  and  instruc 
tive  and  dominating ;  so  were  his  prayers.  His  ser 
mons  were  often  friendly  and  familiar,  and  even  con 
descending  ;  so  were  his  prayers.  In  fact,  there  was 
no  vital  difference  between  the  two,  in  voice  or  man 
ner,  except  the  difference  in  the  angle  at  which  they 
were  delivered.  The  sermons  were  sent  forth  in 
the  plane  of  the  horizon  and  below  it.  The  pray 
ers  were  propelled  outward  and  slightly  above  the 
horizon ;  so  it  was  evident  that  the  preacher  had 
some  sense  of  a  higher  and  lower,  in  the  structure  of 
the  universe,  and  was  willing  to  concede,  at  times,  that 
there  was  a  Being  in  the  world,  above  him.  As  to  the 
literary  form  of  his  discourses,  there  was  a  lack  of  or 
ganic  unity  in  them  which  would  have  perplexed  even  a 
professor  of  homiletics.  He  threw  together  fragments 
of  description  and  exhortation  and  narration,  entirely 
with  reference  to  their  separate  worth,  and  with  no  ref 
erence  to  their  combined  effect.  Sometimes  he  gained 
an  apparent  harmony  of  purpose  by  such  striking  titles 
as  "  Three  Johns  of  Christian  History,"  or  "  Four  Fa 
mous  Henrys,"  a  mechanical  combination  of  parts  being 
thus  achieved,  rather  than  a  chemical  or  organic  union. 
But  the  sermons  abounded  in  rhetoric,  of  a  florid  kind, 


A  PULPIT  SUCCESS  173 

and  he  was  commonly  understood  to  have  "  a  great  gift 
of  language,"  in  the  exercise  of  which  "  gift "  he  was 
much  like  some  luxuriant,  expansive  grape-vine,  loaded 
with  leaves,  but  bearing  little  fruit. 

The  Rev.  Ronald  always  kept  in  touch  with  the 
public  life  around  him.  He  made  friends  with  the  news 
paper  reporters,  and  often  wrote  letters  to  the  daily 
papers.  Also  he  joined  various  orders,  "Knights"  of 
this,  and  "  Templars "  of  that,  and  "  Most  Illustrious 
Chevaliers  "  of  the  other.  He  was  voted  a  capital  fellow, 
in  all  these  clubs,  and  could  tell  a  story  and  crack  a  joke, 
with  great  acceptability.  He  soon  was  in  demand  as  an 
after-dinner  speaker,  at  the  "banquets"  of  these  societies, 
and  made  friends  wherever  he  went.  He  also  varied 
the  order  of  his  Sunday  services  by  inviting  various 
bodies  of  men  to  attend,  in  their  corporate  capacities ; 
he  thus  imported  into  Emmanuel  Church,  from  time  to 
time,  the  firemen  of  the  city,  and  the  railroad  employes, 
and  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic,  and  the  police 
men,  and  others.  To  each  organization  he  preached  an 
appropriate  sermon,  and  did  it  with  considerable  skill. 
So  that  easily  he  was  the  most  conspicuous  figure  in  the 
pulpits  of  the  city,  and  was  always  called  upon  to  offer 
prayer,  or  to  introduce  speakers,  at  municipal  functions. 

Like  most  professional  men  who  have  been  denied 
thorough  professional  training,  he  was  very  desirous  to 
pass  as  well  trained  and  "  scholarly."  Therefore,  he  fre 
quently  carried  some  serious-looking  book  about  with 
him,  and  when  waiting  for  his  change,  at  the  store-coun 
ter,  or  while  riding  in  the  street-cars,  he  gave  close  study 
to  his  book.  The  shallowness  and  obtrusiveness  of  this 
make-believe  studiousness  was  not  apparent  or  offensive 
to  the  average  clerk  or  carpenter  who  happened  to  see 
it  (and  the  reverend  poseur  took  good  care  that  many 
persons  should  see  it) ;  so  that  Carnaquay's  reputation  for 


174  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

profound  learning  grew  apace,  among  people  who  had 
no  conception  of  what  really  profound  learning  was  ; 
and  the  smatterer  passed  as  an  authority  on  nearly  all 
subjects. 

Regarding  the  Sunday-school,  there  was  the  same 
energy  shown,  as  in  other  departments  of  the  church. 
Personally  the  minister  did  not  like  children ;  he  was 
too  much  absorbed  in  his  own  affairs  to  give  them  that 
sympathy  which  young  people  crave.  The  smaller  chil 
dren  always  annoyed  him  by  their  restlessness,  and  with 
difficulty  he  kept  his  temper  when  thrown  much  among 
them ;  that,  however,  did  not  prevent  his  preaching  an 
excellent  sermon  on  "  The  Needs  and  Nurture  of  Child 
hood."  And  he  started  a  boys'  brigade,  and  introduced 
banners  for  banner  classes,  and  had  prizes,  and  arranged 
Sunday-school  concerts,  which  were  unrivalled  in  the 
history  of  the  parish.  He  managed  —  did  this  man  of 
infinite  ingenuity  and  exhaustless  energy  and  unabash- 
able  self-confidence  —  to  infuse  a  vitality  into  every 
part  of  the  church  which  he  touched.  It  was  pleasur 
able  and  stimulating,  but  had  very  little  moral  or  spir 
itual  bearing  on  the  week-day  conduct  and  character  of 
those  who  so  energetically  seconded  his  efforts. 

There  is  one  part  of  every  clergyman's  round  of  duties, 
which  makes  especial  demands  upon  his  capacity  for 
sympathy.  It  is  his  parish  calls.  If  he  is  lacking  in 
sympathy,  emotional  or  intellectual,  he  is  bored  by  them 
and  makes  them  in  a  mechanical  way ;  but  if  he  is  able 
to  throw  himself  unreservedly  into  the  minute  affairs  of 
the  people  who  call  him  their  spiritual  guide,  he  finds 
inexhaustible  interest  in  their  hopes  and  joys,  and  disap 
pointments  and  failures.  Carnaquay  was  quite  out  of 
place  in  such  a  field  as  this  ;  but  he  had  great  tact,  and 
was  not  shy,  and  he  had  learned  how  to  meet  the  de 
mands  of  the  parochial  part  of  his  profession,  with  sin- 


A  PULPIT  SUCCESS  175 

gular  cleverness.  He  always  came  into  a  house  and 
went  out  again,  as  if  in  a  hurry  ;  he  often  apologized  for 
his  haste,  said  he  was  pressed  for  time  amid  the  endless 
duties  of  his  busy  life.  Of  an  afternoon,  even  if  he  had 
been  sitting  for  hours  in  his  room,  comfortably  smoking, 
and  reading  a  novel  (he  was  very  fond  of  Marryatt  and 
Clark  Russell,  but  kept  such  books  under  lock  and  key), 
he  rushed  through  his  parish  calls,  as  if  driven  by  a 
sense  of  a  hundred  engagements  and  appointments.  He 
knew  how  to  give  soft,  purring  responses  to  complaining 
old  women,  responses  which  conveyed  no  intelligent 
perception  of  their  troubles,  but  were  usually  agreeable 
and  soothing.  Then,  too,  he  could,  by  a  desperate  effort 
of  will,  and  for  a  very  brief  period  of  time,  catch  up 
and  dandle  dirty,  struggling  infants  in  crumpled  dresses  ; 
but  he  hated  this  kind  of  call.  He  always  made  short 
calls,  and  calmly  contrived,  if  it  were  possible,  to  throw 
the  responsibility  for  the  brevity  of  the  call  on  the  per 
son  he  was  visiting.  "  I  know  you  are  a  very  busy 
woman,"  he  managed  to  say,  "and  I  must  not  take  more 
of  your  time."  And  he  was  up  and  away  before  the 
hostess  could  find  her  tongue  to  assure  him  that  she 
hoped  he  would  remain  longer.  Failing  to  discover  a 
conventional  nail  on  which  to  hang  this  effective  termi 
nal  remark,  the  pastor  sat  restlessly  a  few  minutes,  then 
pulled  a  long  face,  and  spoke  of  the  exacting  nature  of 
his  studies,  and  moved  toward  the  door,  with  apparent 
regret  veiling  an  inflexible  will  to  get  outside  as  soon  as 
possible.  Thus  he  often  made  a  score  of  calls  in  an 
afternoon,  and  kept  careful  record  of  the  same,  to  be 
duly  published  in  the  annual  report  of  the  parish. 

He  also  did  a  great  deal  of  surreptitious  and  illegal  call 
ing.  "  What  do  I  mean  by  that  ?  "  I  mean  that  he  over 
stepped  the  code  of  his  profession  and  the  bounds  of  his 
parish,  and  called  —  whenever  he  could  find  an  excuse  for 


176  RONALD  CARNAQUAY 

it  —  on  families  belonging  in  other  churches.  Always  he 
had  some  plausible  reason  for  such  calls ;  he  was  "  not 
calling  officially,  but  just  as  a  neighbor";  or  he  "just 
called  to  inquire,"  etc. ;  or,  "  you  are  a  sister  of  Mrs. 
Jones,  in  Emmanuel  Church  ;  "  and  so  on.  He  was  very 
adroit  about  it,  and  when  once  inside  the  door,  could 
make  himself  extremely  agreeable.  Thus  he  consider 
ably  extended  his  range  of  acquaintance,  and  always 
gave  a  very  friendly  invitation  to  "  come  around  and 
visit  our  church,"  or  to  "  come  and  hear  our  excellent 
tenor." 

Still  another  series  of  calls,  by  this  enterprising  clergy 
man,  should  not  fail  of  mention.  These  were  calls  of 
which  he  kept  no  written  record,  and  they  were  made 
upon  Miss  Metcalf.  Carnaquay  could  no  more  keep 
worldly  advancement  out  of  his  plans  than  could  the 
most  active  speculator  on  Wall  Street.  Therefore,  it 
was  by  the  veriest  instinct  that  he  made  himself  aware 
of  the  fact  that  Miss  Metcalf  was  the  possessor  of  a 
large  income ;  and,  learning  this,  he  found  her  attrac 
tiveness  greatly  enhanced.  She  was  at  least  ten  years 
older  than  himself ;  but  what  were  ten  years  when  com 
pared  with  ten  times  ten  thousands  of  dollars !  So  he 
became  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  fine  old  colonial  house 
which  she  had  inherited,  ate  many  a  good  dinner  at  her 
table,  and  paid  the  handsome  spinster  frequent  compli 
ments.  Miss  Metcalf,  like  every  woman,  was  hungry 
for  affection,  and  her  eagerness  for  this  blunted  her 
naturally  keen  critical  faculty,  as  the  tall,  self-reliant 
clergyman  bestowed  compliments,  at  first  on  her  cook 
ing,  then  upon  her  house,  and  finally  and  freely  upon 
herself.  It  is  always  safe  to  extend  compliments  to  a 
woman.  When  one  man  praises  another,  directly, 
unless  the  two  are  old  friends,  the  man  praised  be 
comes  at  once  suspicious ;  he  begins  to  ask  himself 


A  PULPIT   SUCCESS  177 

what  this  complimentary  remark  has  behind  it ;  he 
looks  at  it  as  a  bait,  and  guards  himself  against  taking 
it  and  the  concealed  hook  with  it.  But  a  woman's  heart 
is  so  predisposed  to  love  and  tenderness,  that  she  believes 
against  her  judgment;  and  a  gentle  phrase,  a  sympa 
thetic  tone,  opens  her  to  attack,  and  blinds  her  to 
harsh  realities. 

Thus  it  was  with  the  snowy-haired  Miss  Metcalf.  She 
fluttered,  despite  herself,  as  Carnaquay's  firm  grasp 
closed  over  her  own  delicate  fingers,  and  her  tell-tale 
nervousness  of  speech  showed  the  calculating  man 
that  he  was  looked  upon  with  favor.  He  had  no 
formulated  plan  in  thus  advancing  himself  in  her 
affections ;  it  was  his  general  aim  to  establish  himself 
in  the  good  opinion  of  all  the  people  he  met.  In  Miss 
Metcalf 's  case  he  merely  pushed  his  general  purpose  to 
greater  lengths,  being  partly  grateful  for  the  dinners, 
partly  circumspect  toward  an  important  pewholder, 
and  then,  beyond  that,  finding  a  mild  amusement  in 
acting  his  part  of  admirer.  It  was  really  the  woman's 
wealth,  which,  even  unknown  to  himself,  gave  greatest 
attraction  to  her  in  his  eyes ;  yet  personally  she  was 
far  from  distasteful  to  him. 

Let  it  not  be  assumed,  however,  by  the  reader  of  this 
narrative,  that  Carnaquay  was  unconscious  of  the  fresh 
ness  and  bloom  that  usually  accompanies  young  girl 
hood.  He  was  very  keen  in  his  sense  of  pleasure  at 
the  sight  of  a  sweet,  sunny  face  like  that  of  Olive  Mar 
shall's,  for  example.  She  was  a  slender  girl,  with  lux 
uriant  flaxen  hair,  soft,  appealing  blue  eyes,  and  a  mouth 
whose  red  lips  curved  and  arched  with  daintiness  and 
grace.  To  be  sure  her  voice  was  untrained,  and  often 
declared  her  plain,  humble  ancestry ;  and  she  clipped 
the  tails  from  off  participles,  as  if  they  had  been 
evolving  tadpoles ;  but  that  barbarous  curtailment  was 


1 78  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

perpetrated,  as  are  most  cruelties,  under  the  stress  of 
excitement.  Normally  she  spoke  gently,  and  her  caress 
ing  voice  and  appealing  eyes,  and  round,  pliant  figure 
made  a  distinct  impression  on  the  dark,  angular  minis 
ter  ;  besides,  her  utter  simplicity  and  innocence  were 
very  attractive  to  him,  dramatic  nature  that  he  was, 
always  instinctively  acting  some  part. 

Olive,  like  most  young  girls,  was  more  than  half  a 
hero-worshipper ;  and  she  gave  the  new  minister  much 
the  same  sort  of  confidence  which  she  had  given  to  Mr. 
Freeman.  Whatever  were  the  judgments  of  her  shrewd 
father,  regarding  Carnaquay,  he  did  not  choose  to  taint 
her  innocent  admiration  by  any  adverse  criticism  of  the 
man  who  thrilled  her,  each  Sunday,  by  his  impassioned 
sermons.  She  was  not  a  shallow  mind,  but  her  experi 
ence  of  men  and  women  was  limited,  and  she  yielded 
freely  to  the  fascination  of  Carnaquay's  virile  voice  and 
manner. 

Often  the  two  exchanged  a  few  words,  in  Sunday- 
school,  or  after  church,  or  at  a  sociable.  The  minister 
was  not  invited  to  the  mill-owner's  table,  as  yet ;  for 
ambitious  Mrs.  Marshall,  although  she  had  expended 
money  abundantly  in  furnishing  her  home,  was  still 
distrustful  of  herself,  as  she  might  be  revealed  by 
her  dinner-table ;  therefore,  the  Rev.  Ronald  saw  Miss 
Olive  only  brokenly  and  briefly.  But  she  was  a  charm 
ing  young  creature,  still  an  impressionable  school-girl ; 
and  while  he  spoke  of  her  lightly,  to  her  mother,  as  a 
child,  he  often  found  himself  tenderly  picturing  what 
she  would  be  in  three  or  four  years,  then  in  two  or 
three  years  —  yes,  even  in  one  year. 

However,  Miss  Metcalf  was  the  person  whose  door 
bell  he  oftenest  rang ;  scarcely  a  week  passed  that  the 
bachelor  minister  was  not  invited  to  Miss  Metcalf's 
house ;  and  there  he  spent  many  comfortable  hours, 


A   PULPIT   SUCCESS  179 

dividing  his  attention  between  venison,  cafe  parfait, 
chartreuse,  imported  cigars,  and  much  conversation  on 
politics  and  investments. 

The  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay  was  not  a  man,  how 
ever,  to  lose  sight  of  the  essential  demands  —  as 
he  understood  them  —  of  his  profession.  He  knew 
well  that  parish  calls  and  Sunday-school  work,  and 
public  speaking  at  dinners,  were  not  the  main  avenues 
of  a  minister's  effort,  and  were  not  the  chief  sources 
of  his  power.  Therefore,  it  was  his  preaching  which 
claimed  his  greatest  interest ;  and  his  pulpit  he  made 
his  throne. 

He  kept  a  superintending  eye,  also,  on  the  large  con 
gregation,  both  regular  members  and  strangers,  and  his 
keen  glance  singled  out  the  individuals,  who  were  worth 
capturing  and  shaking  hands  with,  after  the  services. 
These  worthy  persons,  however  they  may  have  realized, 
on  reflection,  that  the  motive  of  the  alert  preacher,  as  he 
leaped  toward  them,  was  essentially  that  of  the  Chatham 
Street  second-hand  clothing  dealer,  who  rushes  out  and 
clutches  victims  from  among  the  passers-by,  —  however 
they  may  have  known  this  in  their  hearts,  they  could  not 
but  feel  flattered  that  the  powerful  orator  should  kindly 
descend  from  his  eminence,  and  chat  with  them  freely 
and  familiarly.  And  they  were  much  inclined  to  believe, 
—  against  their  better  judgment  —  that  the  cordial  invi 
tation  to  come  again  was  given,  in  an  apostolic  passion 
for  the  welfare  of  their  immortal  souls. 

Early  among  the  Sundays  after  Ronald  Carnaquay 
had  become  the  accepted  incumbent  of  Emmanuel  pul 
pit,  he  had  noted,  far  back  in  one  corner,  a  very  bright, 
rose-tinted,  rounded  female  face,  among  the  regular  at 
tendants  of  the  church ;  and  the  piquant,  penetrating, 
almost  defiant  mien  of  this  tastefully  dressed  young 
person  aroused  his  interest,  for  he  recollected  seeing 


i8o  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

her  on  two  previous  occasions.  One  was  when  he  had 
casually  visited  a  sewing  school,  in  a  lower  ward  of  the 
city,  and  had  seen  this  young  person  instructing  a  group 
of  frowzy  little  girls.  He  had  merely  looked  in  at  the 
door,  by  mistake,  and  had  not  spoken  to  her;  but  her 
bright,  fearless,  questioning  look  had  made  an  impres 
sion  on  him  —  a  passing  impression,  that  was  all.  But 
a  week  later  he  found  himself  in  a  street-car,  directly 
opposite  the  same  oval  face  and  coquettish  ringlets, 
and  could  hardly  keep  his  eyes  off  her.  She,  for  her 
part,  gave  not  the  slightest  look  of  recognition,  and  he 
was  left  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  her  identity.  But  there 
was  some  indefinable  charm  about  her  poise  and  self- 
possession,  and  her  calm,  unshrinking  gaze,  which  gave 
him  a  pleasurable  anxiety  to  meet  her  again. 

And  here,  in  church,  by  some  perplexing  turn  of 
chance,  his  searching  glance  had  found  her  out.  He 
was  startled  and  yet  gladdened  by  the  discovery.  For 
that  very  reason,  however,  he  was  cautious  and  cir 
cuitous  in  approaching  her.  Was  she  a  regular  at 
tendant  ?  She  kept  in  the  background,  did  not  seem 
inclined  to  seek  his  acquaintance,  and  accordingly  was 
all  the  more  stimulating  to  his  fancy.  He  took  occasion 
to  inquire  carelessly  of  Mr.  Pidge  who  she  was  ;  and 
that  gentleman  of  accurate  mind,  but  somewhat  defec 
tive  speech,  hastily  "  guessed  "  it  was  Mis'  Guthrie. 

Enough  for  that  time ;  and  the  Rev.  Ronald  found 
himself  more  and  more  interested  in  the  supposed  "  Miss  " 
Guthrie,  who  was  always  in  her  place  in  the  church  ;  and 
he  frequently  sought  to  draw,  from  her  bright,  critical 
countenance,  some  evidence  of  approval  in  his  more  dar 
ing  flights  of  eloquence.  But  in  vain.  The  young  lady 
sat  erect  and  calm,  two  or  three  fugitive  ringlets  peeping 
from  beneath  a  very  tasteful  little  hat,  and  seemed  to 
give  intelligent  attention,  but  not  any  marked  sign  of 


A  PULPIT  SUCCESS  181 

pleasure.  At  the  close  of  service  she  always  walked 
rapidly  out,  and  the  active  preacher,  with  all  his  speed, 
had  not  yet  been  able  to  overtake  her. 

One  Sunday,  Miss  Metcalf  invited  her  pastor  to  go 
home  with  her  and  dine.  This  invitation  he  was  not 
averse  to  accepting,  as  he  already  knew  how  carefully 
and  skilfully  Miss  Metcalf's  cuisine  was  conducted. 
That  lady  would  have  preferred,  of  her  own  choice,  to 
have  the  minister  all  to  herself,  but  she  had  a  keen 
sense  of  social  conventions,  and  therefore  said,  as  they 
left  the  church,  "  Isn't  there  somebody  you  would  like 
to  have  join  us,  Dr.  Carnaquay  ?  What  is  enough  for 
two  is  enough  for  three,  you  know." 

Then  it  occurred  to  the  minister  that  this  might  be  a 
fortunate  opening,  but  he  was  too  wary  to  rush  blunder 
ingly  toward  it.  "  I  hardly  know  that  I  care  for  any 
one,"  he  replied  indifferently ;  and  at  once  added,  with 
a  bow  and  that  stage  chivalry  which  most  women  love, 
even  though  they  understand  its  hollo wness,  "  I  cer 
tainly  do  not  need  another  person,  so  far  as  my  own 
pleasure  is  concerned  ; "  but,  being  graciously  pressed 
by  the  lady  of  the  snowy  locks,  he  carelessly  remarked 
"  that  there  was  a  Miss  Guthrie  whom  he  had  not  yet 
met,  and  — 

"  Not  Miss  Guthrie,"  interrupted  Miss  Metcalf,  who 
was  as  convenient  as  a  blue  book  in  all  social  matters. 
"  You  must  mean  Mrs.  Guthrie ;  she  is  a  young  widow 
and  a  charming  person." 

Luckily  the  large  black  eyes  were  not  on  her  min 
ister's  face,  as  she  thus  conveyed  what  was  to  him  sur 
prising  and  somewhat  disturbing  information.  Possibly 
his  silence  signified  something  to  her ;  for  she  at  once 
added,  "A  very  charming  person,  though  rather  too 
bookish  to  suit  me,  and  a  trifle  free  with  her  tongue." 

"She  seems  rather  young,  and — and  — "  Mr.  Car- 


1 82  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

naquay  was  about  to  say  "  fresh  looking,  for  a  widow," 
but  changed  it  advisedly  to  "frivolous." 

The  change  was  a  discreet  one,  and  his  companion 
developed  his  suggestion  freely,  but  closed  by  saying 
that  she  would  gladly  send  and  invite  Mrs.  Guthrie,  so 
soon  as  the  two  reached  her  house.  Mrs.  Guthrie  was 
a  neighbor,  and  the  message  would  reach  her  speedily. 

The  plan  was  carried  out,  and  the  Rev.  Ronald  Car- 
naquay  presently  was  introduced,  in  Miss  Metcalf's 
parlor, — now  free  from  the  commercial  atmosphere  of 
Messrs.  Mixer,  Pidge,  and  Blaney,  —  to  Mrs.  Adeline 
Guthrie,  who  returned  his  bold  look  with  a  glance  that 
parried  but  did  not  give  ground.  The  two  women  were 
now  in  house  costume,  and  contrasted  interestingly  with 
each  other.  Heretofore,  Carnaquay  had  seen  Mrs.  Guth 
rie,  only  in  hat  and  wraps  ;  now  she  had  laid  them  aside, 
and  seemed  to  gain  in  piquant  beauty  by  the  change. 
In  the  case  of  some  women,  disrobing  is  a  contraction 
and  a  humiliating  confession ;  in  the  case  of  others  it  is 
a  bourgeoning  and  a  beauteous  revelation.  For  example, 
Miss  Metcalf,  when  fully  arrayed  for  the  street,  having 
her  tall,  willowy  figure  well  gowned,  her  expansive  hat 
resting  on  her  billowy,  snowy  hair,  her  luminous  black 
eyes  active  and  intelligent,  was  a  striking  and  fascinating 
person,  whose  age  you  would  have  named  ten  years  un 
der  the  hard  calendar  fact ;  but,  as  she  laid  aside  jacket 
and  tippet,  and  hat  and  gloves,  she  seemed  to  diminish 
and  shrink ;  her  wrinkles  showed  more  plainly,  and  she 
became  less  and  less  an  agreeable  personality.  But,  as 
Mrs.  Guthrie  laid  aside  her  wraps,  the  steps  of  the  process 
were  a  continuous  revelation.  She  seemed  to  unfold  and 
to  crescendo ;  her  round,  full  neck,  and  finely  modelled 
chin  came  into  view,  and  the  pink  in  her  cheeks  seemed 
to  deepen,  and  her  figure,  somewhat  full  when  in  jacket 
and  coat,  softened  down  to  graceful  lines ;  so  that  the 


A   PULPIT   SUCCESS  183 

Rev.  Ronald,  who  was  by  no  means  unaccustomed  to 
the  society  of  certain  kinds  of  women,  found  the  sight 
of  her  very  agreeable,  and,  in  his  free  way,  he  was  in 
clined  to  hold  her  soft,  pink  fingers,  a  trifle  longer  than 
was  needful  for  form's  sake. 

But  the  soft  hand  had  nerves  and  a  will  behind  it, 
and  was  promptly  and  firmly  withdrawn,  as  its  owner 
remarked,  nonchalantly,  glancing  at  him  with  indiffer 
ence,  "  I  have  often  wondered  how  you  would  look,  in  a 
room  with  other  people,  and  without  the  defence  of  that 
pulpit."  Then  she  calmly  sat  down  as  if  she  had  said 
the  most  casual  thing  in  the  world. 

"  Defence  ?  "  echoed  Carnaquay.  "  I  don't  regard  my 
pulpit  in  any  such  light."  Then  he  saw  that  he  had 
been  irritated,  and  had  shown  his  irritation  in  his  quick 
retort.  At  once  he  resumed  his  usual,  composed,  and 
almost  condescending  manner,  and  said  playfully,  "  You 
have  perhaps  noticed  that  I  am  at  one  side  of  it  or  the 
other,  most  of  the  time." 

Miss  Metcalf  here  showed  traces  of  anxiety,  either 
about  the  dinner  or  the  turn  in  the  conversation ;  and 
she  at  once  remarked,  in  a  nervous  voice,  "  For  my  part, 
Dr.  Carnaquay,  I  didn't  notice  much  that  you  did  or 
said  this  morning.  I  was  so  stirred  up  about  those 
moths  in  the  pew  cushions.  I  never  saw  such  a  sight 
before.  When  I  sat  down,  I  saw  a  lot  of  them  fly 
away." 

"Not  very  appreciative  on  their  part,  I  must  say," 
rejoined  the  clergyman,  with  a  bow  and  a  great  show  of 
significance.  "  I  certainly  would  not  have  acted  in 
that  way."  Then  he  feared  lest  the  conversation  should 
linger,  on  that  housekeeping  level,  and  turned  toward 
Mrs.  Guthrie.  "  And,  pray,  how  were  the  moths  in 
your  pew  ? " 

Somehow  he  felt  safe  in  asking  the  question,  little  as 


1 84  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

he  wished  to  discuss  this  entomological  theme,  unless 
in  a  sermon  under  the  text  of  "  Moth  and  Rust."  He 
knew,  by  instinct,  that  moth-eaten  cushions  and  derelict 
sextons  would  not  be  further  exploited  by  her.  There 
fore,  he  was  not  surprised  when  Mrs.  Guthrie,  ignoring 
the  whole  subject,  coolly  said,  "That  was  a  splendid 
text  of  yours,  this  morning :  '  Out  of  the  heart  are  the 
issues  of  life.'  ' 

The  clergyman  bowed,  in  a  grave  and  professional 
way.  He  at  once  took  her  words  in  a  complimentary 
sense.  Still,  she  had  by  no  means  intended  them  to 
carry  such  an  impression ;  and  his  pleased  and  suave 
expression  altered,  as  she  continued,  "  I  heard  a  grand 
sermon  on  that  text,  once."  Saying  which,  she  looked 
down  at  the  floor,  and  seemed  to  meditate. 

Ronald's  vanity  was  a  bit  ruffled.  He  was  not  sure 
as  to  exactly  how  much  or  how  little  this  fearless  but 
enigmatic  young  person  meant.  He  sat  back  in  his 
chair  and  coolly  inquired,  not  without  retaliatory 
motive,  "  Perhaps  it  was  your  husband  who  preached 
it ;  he  was  a  preacher,  I  am  told." 

A  subtle  smile  rested  on  the  youthful  widow's  face, 
as  she  responded  promptly,  "  Dr.  Guthrie  was  a  clergy 
man,  but  not  much  of  a  preacher ;  not  —  not  a  really 
able  speaker,  like  you.  He  was  a  .scholar;  that  is 
different." 

There  was  a  confusion  of  suggestion  in  her  words. 
Carnaquay  was  puzzled.  In  one  breath  she  bestowed 
praise  and  seemed  to  hint  at  the  opposite.  "Ah,  so 
you  consider  the  two  callings  essentially  antagonistic  ?  " 
he  inquired,  growing  irritated  at  what  he  suspected 
was  a  thrust,  and  a  thrust  at  his  most  vulnerable  spot. 
"  You  think  that  no  man  can  be  both  scholar  and 
preacher  ? " 

"  That  is  what  my  husband  was  used  to  saying.     He 


A  PULPIT  SUCCESS  185 

believed  that  the  oratorical  or  dramatic  temperament 
might  possibly  be  joined  with  the  capacity  for  accurate 
research,  but  not  often." 

Here  the  maid  announced  the  dinner ;  and  the  three 
went  out  into  the  well-appointed  dining  room,  and  seated 
themselves  at  the  table,  Carnaquay  having  taken  a  reso 
lution  in  transitu  that  he  would  address  himself  more 
to  his  hostess,  and  thus  quietly  suppress  the  unmanage 
able  young  widow,  and  also  show  a  proper  appreciation 
of  his  invitation  to  dinner.  The  appointments  of  the  table 
and  the  serving  of  the  well-garnished  viands  naturally 
brought  the  talk  to  corresponding  pragmatic  levels ; 
and  here  Miss  Metcalf  was  much  at  ease.  Also  in  all 
local  gossip  and  family  reminiscences,  and  plans  for 
parish  management,  she  was  quite  at  home.  Table 
intercourse,  moreover,  gave  her  opportunity  for  free 
and  effective  display  of  her  shapely  white  hands,  with 
their  several  blazing  gem-set  rings.  She  took  great 
pride  in  her  housekeeping,  and  especially  in  her  mar 
keting  ;  she  gloried  in  "  good  trades,"  and  fancied  her 
self  more  than  a  match  for  any  grocer  or  butcher  in 
town.  One  might  have  thought,  upon  hearing  her 
discuss  her  close  bargains,  that  Miss  Metcalf  was  penuri 
ous  in  the  extreme  ;  but  not  so.  She  haggled  over  a 
"cent  a  pound,"  more  from  love  of  victory  than  from 
love  of  money.  It  was  the  same  with  her  wardrobe  ; 
she  delighted  to  save,  at  one  point  and  another,  but  her 
little  economies  were  far  outweighed  by  the  large  sums 
she  often  put  out  on  new  garments.  Pier  friends  often 
teased  her  about  her  writing-paper  and  ink.  These 
were  her  pet  economies.  She  persisted  in  tearing  off 
and  retaining  half  sheets  which  were  not  written 
upon ;  and  the  ink  in  which  she  wrote  her  "  few  and 
far  between "  letters  was  quite  too  pale,  from  much 
watering. 


1 86  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

In  all  such  ways  she  was  the  reverse  of  Mrs.  Guthrie, 
who,  though  "comfortably  off,"  had  by  no  means  as 
large  an  income.  In  most  other  ways,  also,  the  two 
seemed,  to  the  watchful  clergyman  sitting  there  be 
tween  them,  complements  of  each  other,  in  physical 
characteristics,  and  even  more  so  in  mental  aptitudes. 
For  instance,  Miss  Metcalf  referred  to  the  choir,  thus  : 
"I  don't  like  our  present  choir."  Here  she  paused  to 
pass  the  olives.  "  I  liked  that  contralto  of  last  year, 
much  better.  This  one  is  too  tall  to  stand  near  those 
two  short  men.  And  her  bonnet !  Why,  it's  a  crime ! 
I  think,  anyway,  that  choir  people  —  the  women,  I  mean 
—  ought  to  take  off  their  bonnets.  Don't  you,  Dr. 
Carnaquay  ?  " 

Before  the  clergyman  could  frame  a  proper  response, 
Mrs.  Guthrie  interjected,  "I'm  afraid,  Miss  Metcalf, 
that  you  class  choirs  with  small  children,  who  should  be 
seen  but  not  heard."  Then  she  continued,  "  I  wish  that 
Dr.  Carnaquay  would  arrange  some  vesper  services,  like 
those  we  had  formerly ;  I  like  a  great  deal  of  music  in 
church." 

This  was  precisely  what  the  reverend  gentleman  did 
not  like.  In  the  first  place  he  had  but  little  fine  taste 
for  music  ("  powerful  "  as  was  his  sermon  on  "  The  Harp 
of  Judah  "),  and,  secondly,  he  could  not  endure  to  sit 
still  and  see  a  congregation's  attention  held  by  another 
person  or  group  of  persons.  His  egotism  was  too  great 
to  allow  him  to  be  happy  under  such  conditions.  There 
fore,  having  tried  these  much-vaunted  "  vesper  services," 
in  his  previous  parish,  he  did  not  purpose  to  duplicate 
such  humiliating  experiences  in  Emmanuel  Church.  But 
he  preserved  a  wise  and  judicial  bearing,  as  Mrs.  Guthrie 
advocated  the  use  of  music  in  church,  contracting  his 
brow  into  a  double  furrow,  which,  in  his  case,  did  not 
mean  calm  deliberation,  for  his  real  decisions  were 


A   PULPIT   SUCCESS  187 

made  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  and,  like  a  woman's, 
bordered  on  instinct. 

"  What  you  say  is  true,  very  true,"  he  agreed,  and 
prepared  his  salad  discriminately.  "  The  mayonnaise  ? 
No,  thank  you!  I  prefer  the  French  dressing.  True, 
very  true  !  Music  is  a  divine  art ;  but  we  must  not  for 
get  that  the  church  has  always  attached  great  impor 
tance  ..."  Here  he  skilfully  distributed  salt  over  the 
lettuce  on  his  plate. 

"  Oh,  I  see  that  you  know  how  important  salt  is," 
exclaimed  Miss  Metcalf.  "  Few  people  realize  that  it 
enriches  food,  even  pastry,  almost  as  much  as  does 
sugar  or  butter." 

"  Quite  so  !  "  responded  the  minister.  "  I  learned 
that  secret  when  I  was  camping  out,  just  after  my  theo 
logical  seminary  examination.  However,  as  Mrs.  Guth- 
rie  justly  remarked  about  music,  '  It's  a  divine  art.'  " 

"  It  was  you  who  said  that,"  interrupted  that  young 
woman,  sententiously.  She  busied  herself  with  her  plate, 
as  she  spoke ;  and  when  the  clergyman,  half  amused 
and  half  annoyed,  looked  across  and  gave  her  one  of 
those  bold,  masculine  looks  which  men  often  substitute 
for  argument,  and  use  to  beat  down  delicate  feminine 
rights  and  reasons,  he  found  her  head  bent  slightly  over 
her  plate ;  and  his  eyes  encountered  only  the  inclined 
angle  of  her  smooth,  broad  forehead,  and  became  en 
tangled  in  the  coquettish  curls. 

She  was  a  puzzling  problem  to  him.  He  had  already 
made  up  his  mind  that  she  did  not  like  him,  but  this 
made  her  more  interesting ;  it  gave  him  a  challenge, 
and  he  liked  challenges.  But  he  must  not  show  too 
open  an  interest  in  her ;  and  he  responded  with  marked 
deference  to  Miss  Metcalf,  when  she  asked  about  the 
renting  of  the  gallery  pews.  "  I  don't  think  we  are 
getting  high  enough  rentals  for  them,"  she  said. 


1 88  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

"  Don't   you   think,  Dr.   Carnaquay,  that  they  are  just 
as  desirable  as  the  pews  on  the  floor  ? " 

The  minister  agreed  that  they  were,  and  artfully  in 
quired,  "  What  have  you  been  accustomed  to  get  for 
them  in  the  past  ?  " 

"  O  dear ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Metcalf,  "  nobody 
knows."  And  then  she  added,  archly,  "You  must  be 
pleased  to  learn  that  those  seats  were  all  empty  before 
you  came." 

This  was  the  agreeable  reply  which  Carnaquay  had 
angled  for,  having  learned  all  about  the  pew-rentals  of 
Emmanuel  Church,  before  he  had  been  settled  over  it  a 
week.  Still,  he  was  greedy  of  praise,  and  his  gesture 
of  deprecation  was  very  gentle  and  graceful. 

From  this  point  the  conversation  led  more  and  more 
into  administrative  fields,  and  Carnaquay  and  his  clear 
headed  hostess  discussed  the  advisability  of  putting 
premiums  on  the  best  pews,  the  need  which  the 
church  property  showed  of  repairs  and  painting,  and 
the  suggestion  which  had  been  made  of  enlarging  the 
Board  of  Trustees.  In  all  these  practical  matters  Miss 
Metcalf  was  singularly  astute,  as  the  minister  plainly 
admitted  to  himself,  and  openly  expressed  to  her.  Still, 
he  did  not  derive  the  pleasure  from  her  conversation 
which  he  found  in  the  crisp  and  somewhat  reactionary 
remarks  of  his  companion  guest. 

After  the  dinner  came  the  customary  cigar ;  and 
the  Rev.  Ronald  looked  the  picture  of  content,  as  he 
lay  back  in  the  capacious,  old,  sleepy-hollow  chair,  and 
puffed  successive  rings  with  consummate  skill.  He  had 
an  indolent,  luxurious  way  of  holding  his  cigar,  with  two 
fingers ;  and  occasionally  he  placed  the  lighted  end 
partly  under  his  nostrils,  to  catch  the  fine  aroma.  He 
was  in  good  conceit  with  himself  now,  the  fatigue  of  the 
morning's  preaching  having  been  allayed,  in  a  measure, 


A  PULPIT  SUCCESS  189 

by  the  excellent  dinner.  Therefore,  he  got  on  more  har 
moniously  with  the  elusive  young  widow;  and  she,  for  her 
part,  relaxed,  perceptibly,  the  sharpness  of  her  attacks 
on  him.  He  was  agreeable,  and,  setting  aside  his  vanity 
and  assertiveness,  was  possessed  of  some  really  likable 
qualities.  The  three  were  coming  into  a  fairly  good 
understanding  with  one  another,  and  Miss  Metcalf's 
anxiety  regarding  collisions  between  her  two  guests  was 
now  much  diminished.  Mrs.  Guthrie  kindly  consented 
to  sing  one  or  two  Scotch  ballads,  making  a  mock  apol 
ogy  to  the  minister,  as  she  went  to  the  piano,  because  of 
the  secular  nature  of  the  songs ;  but  he  carelessly  re 
marked  that  a  song  which  was  good  on  week-days  was 
even  better  on  Sunday,  and  gave  close  attention  to  the 
singer. 

He  was  naturally  musical,  though  untrained ;  and  the 
tenderness  which  the  song  expressed,  contrasting  as  it 
did  with  the  piquant  and  even  acrid  flavor  of  many  of 
the  singer's  remarks  to  him  —  this  added  greatly  to  her 
charm,  and  produced  an  unusual  unrest  in  his  soul.  He 
did  not  clearly  understand  her ;  he  was  actually  a  little 
afraid  of  her,  yet  he  felt  himself  much  drawn  toward 
her. 

After  a  while  Carnaquay  artfully  led  the  conversation 
around  to  the  subject  of  poetry,  and  then,  when  urged 
by  Miss  Metcalf,  —  the  request  being  mildly  seconded 
by  Mrs.  Guthrie,  —  he  recited  some  selections.  He  gave 
page  after  page  of  Longfellow  and  Whittier,  a  part 
of  Foe's  "  Raven,"  and  a  poem  by  Will  Carleton.  He 
had  a  wonderful  memory,  and  recited  with  intelligence 
and  sympathy. 

When  he  finished,  Miss  Metcalf,  following  her  usual 
way,  was  profuse  in  praise  and  thanks ;  but  Mrs. 
Guthrie,  although  she  cordially  thanked  him,  added 
no  word  of  commendation.  She  knew  he  was  ea^er  to 


190  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

hear  it,  and  she  was  aware  that  the  recitations  were 
really  excellent ;  but  her  firmness  and  frankness  were 
capable  of  running  into  obstinacy,  under  dangerous 
conditions  like  the  present,  and  she  uttered  no  word  that 
could  be  construed  by  the  clergyman  into  praise. 

Finally,  the  fitting  moment  for  departure  came,  and 
the  reverend  gentleman  somewhat  reluctantly  went 
away.  He  had  counted  on  walking  home  with  Mrs. 
Guthrie ;  but  that  lady  excused  herself,  having,  as  she 
said,  one  or  two  matters  to  talk  about,  with  Miss  Met- 
calf.  How  real  this  excuse  was,  and  just  how  the 
young  widow  regarded  him,  Ronald  Carnaquay  debated 
with  himself,  without  any  satisfactory  conclusion,  all  the 
way  home,  and  afterward. 


CHAPTER   XII 

SPOTS    ON    THE    SUN 
"Where  there  is  no  vision,  the  people  perish."  —  Proverbs  xxix.  18. 

EMMANUEL  CHURCH  continued  to  "boom."  There 
was  every  reason  for  it.  Dissatisfied  and  disappointed  as 
were  many  earnest,  devout  persons  in  that  body,  yet  the 
controlling  majority  had  gained  what  they  wished.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  Carnaquay  was  a  large  figure,  in  parish  and  in 
city.  The  congregations  had  outgrown  the  existing 
church  edifice,  and  an  enlargement  of  the  building  was 
planned.  Carnaquay  himself  took  an  active  part  in 
raising  the  money  for  the  new  outlay ;  he  gave  two 
hundred  dollars  himself,  for  he  was  not  a  mean  man,  in 
matters  of  money.  Besides  this,  he  went  about  asking 
subscriptions  ;  and  at  this  sort  of  work  he  was  very  apt 
and  efficient.  When  Carnaquay  approached  a  man,  and 
suggested  in  an  easy,  casual  way,  that  the  man  give  the 
trifling  sum  of  fifty  or  five  hundred  dollars  to  so  impor 
tant  a  cause,  the  confident  air  with  which  the  request 
was  made  greatly  aided  in  loosing  the  purse-strings  of 
him  who  was  asked.  Carnaquay  seemed  to  be  offering 
the  man  a  great  privilege,  an  enjoyable  opportunity ; 
and  few  had  the  hardihood  to  attempt  to  break  down 
the  genial  confidence  and  assurance  with  which  he  ap 
proached  them. 

So  the  additional  wing  to  the  church  was  erected 
and  furnished,  and  began  to  fill  with  —  I  was  about  to 

191 


192 

say  "worshippers"  ;  but  there  was  all  too  little  of  the 
worshipful  spirit  apparent  in  the  newcomers.  Carna- 
quay  himself  had  but  slight  conception  of  that  humil 
ity  and  longing  of  the  soul  with  which  a  devout  man 
approaches  the  Infinite  One.  On  the  contrary,  his  gos 
pel  was  of  the  earth,  earthy  —  not  grossly  so,  but  com 
fortably  and  cheerily  of  the  earth ;  he  was  really  an 
Epicurean  philosopher,  of  a  shallow  pattern.  He  taught 
(and  thought  he  believed)  that  earth  was  a  first-rate 
sort  of  place,  and  we  must  be  happy  here ;  happiness, 
he  urged  in  a  score  of  ways,  is  the  rightful  heritage  of 
man.  He  was  very  comfortable  himself,  with  his  ample 
salary,  his  robust  health,  and  his  acknowledged  power 
in  the  community ;  therefore,  he  believed  that  other 
people  were  in  happy  conditions.  He  laughed  a  great 
deal,  in  a  noisy  and  not  quite  deeply  seated  way ;  and 
in  every  sermon  he  besprinkled  jokes  and  humorous 
stories,  which  he  rendered  with  all  the  dramatic  action 
of  a  clown  in  the  circus,  and  was  not  displeased  at  the 
sallies  of  laughter,  which  at  times  echoed  through  the 
church. 

Another  exemplification  of  this  dramatic  quality  in 
Carnaquay  was  to  be  seen  in  the  way  in  which  he 
occasionally  deprecated  or  decried  the  pulpit  success 
which  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  proved  by  large  con 
gregations.  It  was  surprising  and  puzzling  to  see  the 
man,  in  the  full  flush  of  his  success,  standing  at  his 
reading-desk,  with  a  church  crowded  to  the  doors,  and 
to  hear  him  speak  scornfully  of  the  slight  value  of  a 
"  mere  crowd,"  as  testimony  to  success.  "  Any  mounte 
bank  could  draw  a  crowd,"  he  exclaimed,  "  if  that  is  all 
that  is  wanted."  And  saying  it,  strode  back  and  forth 
across  the  platform,  and  brandished  his  arms  in  a  most 
athletic  style.  The  truth  was,  that  by  this  bold  denun 
ciation  of  what  were  really  his  own  points  of  weakness, 


SPOTS   ON   THE   SUN  193 

he  aimed  at  warding  off  adverse  comment  on  himself. 
It  was  a  daring  though  rather  successful  theatrical  ruse. 

Some  amusing  results  followed  the  upturning  and 
overturning,  which  had  come  to  the  parish  and  con 
gregation  from  the  new  life  and  excitement  aroused 
by  the  vigorous,  stimulating  influence  of  the  new  min 
ister.  As,  for  instance,  when  old  Miss  Anthony,  for 
many  years  a  staunch  member  and  supporter  of  the 
church,  began  to  show  herself  in  her  long-unoccupied 
pew.  The  second  time  she  came  to  church,  a  woman, 
a  stranger  to  her,  already  was  seated  in  her  pew ;  this 
stranger  seemed  much  at  home,  and  even  handed  Miss 
Anthony  a  hymn-book  (Miss  Anthony's  own  property, 
with  her  name  on  the  cover).  The  courtesy  was  stiffly 
declined,  and  the  service  proceeded  to  its  close.  After 
the  benediction,  the  stranger  leaned  over  and  offered 
her  hand,  saying  in  a  most  hospitable  voice,  "  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you  here,  I  hope  you  will  come  again ;  we 
are  always  glad  to  welcome  strangers." 

"Strangers,  indeed!"  The  Anthony  gorge  rose  at 
that.  And  she  told  the  story,  at  home,  with  much 
asperity,  and  deprecated,  bitterly,  the  filling  up  of  the 
church  with  such  a  rabble  of  "  new  people."  (Any 
body  who  had  not  lived  in  town,  and  been  connected 
with  the  parish  for  at  least  twenty  years,  was  con 
sidered  a  "new  person"  by  such  aborigines  as  the 
Anthonys  and  the  Metcalfs.) 

If  this  time  limit  of  twenty  years  was  the  standard 
of  "  new  "  and  "  old,"  in  the  case  of  laymen  and  lay- 
women,  what  was  the  standard  as  applied  to  the  minis 
ter  himself  ?  Exactly  how  long  does  a  recently  installed 
pastor  remain  "  our  new  minister  "  ?  And  when  comes 
the  transition  to  "our  minister"?  What  the  social 
or  psychological  laws  are  that  govern  this  transi 
tion,  this  stage  of  moulting,  I  know  not ;  but  some- 


i94  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

where  it  comes,  soon  or  late,  as  surely  as  the  rust 
comes  to  the  storm-exposed  iron,  or  the  brown  dry  tint 
settles  upon  the  tree-leaf.  Therefore  this  change  came 
inevitably  to  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay  ;  and  he  was 
more  quickly  aware  of  it  than  was  any  one  of  his  parish 
ioners.  However,  he  had  anticipated  it  and  was  not 
disturbed.  He  was  ambitious  to  the  core,  and  did  not 
intend  to  remain  many  years  in  Emmanuel  Church ; 
but  any  thought  of  a  change,  at  present,  was  quite 
superfluous.  His  voice  and  manner  had  not  ceased  to 
have  charm,  and  his  stock  of  sermons  and  stories  and 
descriptions  was  not  yet  perilously  diminished.  Still, 
the  tongues  of  the  gossips  were  well  a-wagging, 
and  plenty  of  people  could  be  found  who  freely 
pointed  out  mistakes  in  his  management,  and  faults 
in  his  manner.  He  was  still  the  great  luminary  of 
the  parish  and  town;  but  even  the  sun,  the  radiant 
centre  of  our  planetary  system,  has  been  found  to  have 
opaque  spots  on  it ;  how,  then,  could  a  lesser  luminary, 
like  the  Rev.  Ronald,  hope  to  shine  in  pure,  radiant 
effulgence  ? 

That  custom  which  the  minister  had,  of  praying  with 
eyes  wide  open,  and  to  the  accompaniment  of  ges 
tures  —  very  graceful  and  appropriate  gestures,  —  took 
hold  of  people's  sensibilities  more  and  more ;  it  seemed 
more  and  more  a  performance,  and  less  and  less  like  a 
real  petition  to  the  Almighty.  And  people  grew  uneasy 
and  rebellious  about  it, —  the  best  and  devoutest  people. 
Then  there  were  others  of  the  parish,  a  less  spiritual 
class,  perhaps,  who  resented  the  use  of  the  church  ves 
try  for  "  smoke  talks."  These  had  been  introduced  by 
the  minister,  and,  although  the  lectures  and  talks  were 
of  an  instructive  character,  there  was  an  immense 
amount  of  tobacco  burned  ;  and  the  carpet  and  hangings 
were  saturated  with  the  fumes,  and  faint  odors  of  it  even 


SPOTS   ON   THE   SUN  195 

penetrated  into  the  church,  and  were  perceptible  to  deli 
cate  spinster  nostrils  on  Sundays. 

In  another  way,  too,  Carnaquay  had  given  offence  to 
some.  It  was  in  his  friendliness  with  other  denomi 
nations.  He  had  exchanged  pulpits  twice  with  clergy 
men  who  were  known  as  "  liberals  "  and  "  progressives  " 
—  terms  which  mean  one  thing  one  day,  and  another 
the  next ;  terms  which  please,  when  applied  in  a  gen 
eral  way  to  one  man,  but  become  placards  of  warning, 
like  a  smallpox  card,  when  fastened  to  some  other  man. 
Ronald  Carnaquay  was  not  at  all  a  bigot;  but  this  free 
dom  of  fellowship,  on  his  part,  arose  not  from  intelligent 
recognition  of  the  rights  of  independence  in  his  fellow- 
preachers  ;  it  grew  out  of  his  lax  moral  and  spiritual 
nature.  He  had  no  doctrinal  prejudices  nor  spiritual 
antipathies  against  Calvinist  or  Arminian,  simply  be 
cause  he  had  no  moral  or  religious  convictions.  He 
had  no  convictions  about  the  nature  of  God  and  the 
duty  of  man,  but  preached  such  views  as  he  had  picked 
up,  in  his  scanty  theological  course,  or  such  theories  of 
life  as  he  thought  would  be  most  acceptable  and  com 
fortable  to  his  hearers.  So  he  became  friendly  with  any 
body  and  everybody,  and  aroused  opposition  and  distrust 
by  it,  among  the  doctrinal  sticklers  of  his  church. 

These  points  of  adverse  criticism,  however,  were  in 
the  main  not  different  from  and  no  worse  than  those 
which  are  current,  in  most  parishes,  after  the  honey 
moon  of  a  new  pastorate  has  waxed  and  waned.  But 
there  was  a  more  significant  kind  of  defect  in  the  man, 
which  came  out  in  the  case  of  the  Murch  child,  who  was 
sick  with  a  bad  attack  of  scarlet  fever.  Mr.  Freeman 
learned  about  it  through  Mr.  Marshall,  and  it  was  the 
first  word  of  real  condemnation  which  the  mill-owner 
had  expressed. 

The  facts  were  these.     A  family  named  Murch  had 


196  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

one  child,  who  fell  ill  with  scarlet  fever.  For  several 
days  the  exact  nature  of  the  disease  was  not  clearly 
known ;  as  soon  as  it  differentiated  itself,  the  physician 
ordered  the  usual  quarantine  card  to  be  tacked  on  the 
door,  and  forbade  communication,  as  far  as  possible, 
with  the  outside  world.  The  case  grew  worse,  and 
developed  into  a  bad  form  of  throat  ulceration.  The 
Murch  family  were  of  a  rather  ignorant  class  of  people, 
and  had  affiliations  with  the  Roman  Catholics  about  them, 
from  whom  they  imbibed  more  or  less  of  the  priestly 
notions  of  a  clergyman's  office;  and  as  their  child 
became  worse,  they  sent  word  to  Dr.  Carnaquay,  ask 
ing  that  he  would  come  and  pray  with  them  and  the 
little  sufferer. 

The  message  was  sent  by  a  neighbor's  son,  a  young 
man  from  whom  undoubtedly  the  unpleasant  story  took 
currency.  The  story,  as  commonly  reported,  was  that 
the  minister,  when  asked  to  go  to  the  house  of  sickness, 
at  once  assented ;  but,  learning  by  a  chance  question 
the  nature  of  the  disease,  and  the  aggravated  form  it 
had  assumed,  he  hastily  reconsidered  his  decision,  and 
excused  himself  on  the  ground  that  he  had  forgotten  an 
engagement,  which  was  imperative  with  him,  for  the 
hour  which  he  had  named  for  his  visit ;  and  he  then 
sent  word  that  he  would  try  to  find  some  other  suitable 
hour,  in  the  midst  of  his  pressing  duties.  But  he  never 
did ;  and  the  little  child  died,  and  the  reverend  doctor 
was  away  out  of  town,  nobody  knew  where,  "  to  be 
gone  three  days,"  when  news  of  the  child's  death  came 
to  his  house,  and,  with  the  news,  the  request  that  he 
officiate.  So,  in  view  of  his  absence,  a  local  Methodist 
preacher  was  called  in,  and  the  rite  of  Christian  burial 
was  afforded  the  body. 

This  awkward  bit  of  gossip  went  the  rounds  of  the 
parish,  and,  although  it  came  to  the  ears  of  the  minister, 


SPOTS  ON   THE   SUN  197 

it  was  not  satisfactorily  contradicted.  Because  Carna- 
quay  actually  had  been  afraid,  had  retreated,  and  had 
been  recreant  to  his  duty.  He,  who  could  seem  so 
mighty  and  fearless,  upon  the  platform,  and  was  indeed 
fearless  in  the  presence  of  some  forms  of  danger,  was 
the  veriest  coward,  in  the  presence  of  an  insidious  foe 
like  a  fever-germ.  He  had  little  or  no  sympathy  with 
people  in  sickness,  and  had  made  no  place,  in  his  the 
ory  of  human  welfare,  for  accidents  and  disease  and 
death. 

Here  was  the  weakest  part  of  Carnaquay's  profes 
sional  equipment  —  his  way  of  meeting  scenes  of  sick 
ness  and  death,  in  his  parish  ;  and  the  case  of  young 
Jackson  will  illustrate  the  point. 

Jackson  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-two  years,  a 
house-painter  by  trade,  and  with  a  bad  heredity  for 
pulmonary  weaknesses.  He  had  been  coughing  more 
than  a  year,  when  Carnaquay  came  into  the  parish,  and 
now  was  too  feeble  to  work  at  his  trade,  and  stayed  in 
the  house  except  on  mild,  sunny  days.  Carnaquay  went 
to  see  him,  and  cheered  him  up  wonderfully,  with  his 
health  and  hope,  and  his  breezy  way  of  telling  stories. 
Other  visits  were  made,  and  the  sick  young  man  was 
always  glad  to  see  his  pastor.  But  the  disease  pro 
gressed,  and  the  patient  grew  weaker  and  weaker.  He 
lived  with  his  mother,  a  widow,  and  his  unmarried  sister, 
a  stenographer. 

In  this  series  of  visits,  made  at  intervals  of  a  few 
weeks,  by  Carnaquay,  the  subjects  of  conversation  were 
always  suggested  by  him,  and  were  such  as  might  have 
been  fallen  into  by  any  two  men,  in  health,  at  a  club  or 
on  the  street.  In  fact,  Ronald  Carnaquay's  theory  of 
health  and  hope  took  on  this  special  form,  in  such  a  case 
as  this,  that  the  sick  person  would  be  made  better  if  his 
visitor  could  lead  him  to  think  he  was  better,  and  could 


198  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

interest  him  in  matters  other  than  his  own  personal 
aches  and  pains. 

This  theory  worked  very  well,  in  most  cases  ;  because 
most  cases  are  slight  illnesses,  and  most  patients  become 
convalescent.  But  there  are  some  invalids  who  may  be 
cheered  and  cheered,  yet  grow  weaker ;  and  some  sad, 
pale  faces,  which  may  be  forced  into  smiles  by  the 
antics  and  anecdotes  of  light-hearted  visitors,  but  settle 
soon  into  a  deeper,  deadlier  pallor ;  and  thus  it  was  with 
the  poor  young  painter.  At  first  he  laughed,  on  equal 
terms  of  enjoyment,  with  the  robust,  strong-voiced  clergy 
man  ;  but,  after  a  few  months,  as  his  vitality  waned,  his 
manner  became  more  languid,  his  voice  fainter,  and 
his  smile  more  fleeting ;  but  there  was  no  change  in  his 
clerical  visitor's  manner  or  method.  To  Carnaquay's 
thought  there  was  one  and  only  one  thing  to  do,  in  all 
cases  of  suffering  —  cheer  up  the  sufferer.  So  he  went 
on,  telling  his  stories  and  cracking  his  jokes,  and  discuss 
ing  the  last  piece  of  political  news,  or  the  pros  and  cons 
of  the  next  boat  race.  And  more  and  more  there  came 
into  the  pale,  drawn  face  in  the  big  chair,  a  wistful  look, 
and  a  patience  with  the  visitor's  chatter,  which  Carna- 
quay  did  not  see  or  would  not  see. 

Sometimes,  as  Carnaquay  finished  some  bit  of  gossip 
or  some  story  of  active,  strenuous  life,  and  looked  at  the 
young  man,  as  if  expectant  of  a  response,  there  came 
only  a  faint  sigh ;  and  the  faded  eyes,  deep  in  their 
sombre  hollowness,  closed  for  a  moment  in  weariness, 
and  then  opened,  and  their  gaze  seemed  to  cling  to  the 
minister's  face,  like  fingers  of  entreaty.  What  young 
Jackson  really  desired  was  something  more  serious  and 
more  solemn  than  the  minister  was  capable  of,  at  his 
stage  of  development.  What  did  a  human  soul,  on  the 
borders  of  eternity,  care  about  the  latest  floating  piece 
of  society  gossip  ?  Or  what  did  it  care  about  the  latest 


SPOTS   ON   THE   SUN  199 

trans-Atlantic  record  of  the  new  ocean  liner,  when  it 
was  pausing  on  the  brink  of  an  unknown  sea,  and  hesi 
tated,  and  shrank,  at  the  thought  of  the  lonely  voyage, 
that  must  soon  come? 

No ;  the  great  need  of  the  young  man  was  that  this 
visitor,  his  pastor,  a  man  accredited  with  interest  in 
things  divine,  should  talk  calmly  and  sincerely  with 
him,  about  the  problems  of  life  and  death,  man  to  man, 
and  should  with  him  speak,  in  the  language  of  prayer,  to 
the  All  Father,  concerning  the  needs  and  destiny  of  the 
soul.  The  sick  man  had  a  right  to  expect  this  of  his 
minister,  but  his  expectations  were  not  realized.  He 
was  sensitive,  himself,  about  broaching  topics  of  so  per 
sonal  a  nature,  although  he  and  his  faithful  mother  occa 
sionally  talked  about  them,  and  sometimes  he  expressed 
the  wish  that  Dr.  Carnaquay  might  say  something  which 
would  lead  up  to  them  ;  but  never  a  word  came.  Carna 
quay  could  preach  most  eloquent  sermons  on  the  pres 
ence  of  God  in  the  soul,  and  its  glorifying  of  the  daily 
conduct  of  men ;  but  when  he  was  expected  to  say  the 
same  things  in  simple  language,  —  not  to  a  stimulating 
assemblage  of  a  thousand,  but  to  one  or  two  plain,  hun 
gry  souls,  much  in  need  of  such  truth  as  he  could  bring 
to  them,  —  then  he  halted  and  was  dumb.  In  truth  he 
had  no  real  message.  A  "waiting  congregation,"  in  a 
large  hall,  acted  like  a  powerful  stimulant,  on  his  nerves  ; 
and  he  could  picture,  in  glowing  phrases,  the  delights  of 
heaven  and  the  joy  of  there  clasping  hands  with  those 
who  had  gone  before  ;  but  when  called  upon,  in  a  dingy, 
ten-by-eighteen  room,  to  tell  a  forlorn  mother  and  her 
dying  son,  what  he  thought  about  the  probability  of 
their  meeting  again,  and  when,  and  how,  — on  this  plain, 
practical  side  of  the  question  he  had  nothing  whatever 
to  offer.  His  eloquence  on  Sundays  did  not  arise  from 
spiritual  convictions  and  insights,  but  grew  naturally 


200  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

out  of  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  that  strange 
exaltation  which  lifts  most  public  speakers  into  fervor, 
as  they  gaze  over  a  sea  of  upturned  human  faces. 

So  Carnaquay's  visits  to  the  sick-room  became  formal 
and  constrained,  and  presently  ceased  altogether ;  for  at 
last  the  sick  man  sent  down  word  that  he  thanked  Dr. 
Carnaquay,  but  was  unable  to  see  him.  This  was  the 
message  that  was  given,  but  at  about  the  same  period 
in  the  progress  of  the  disease,  his  mother  sent  word  to 
Mr.  Freeman ;  and  that  true  minister  of  Christ  went 
regularly  to  the  sick-room,  and  read  and  conversed  with 
the  sick  man,  who  felt  a  great  peace  come  over  his  soul, 
as  the  earnest,  devout,  and  sympathetic  clergyman  spoke 
simply  and  tenderly  of  the  love  of  God,  and  his  care  for 
all  his  children.  There  was  an  atmosphere  of  strength, 
mingled  with  tenderness,  in  Freeman's  manner,  as  he 
came  into  the  room,  which  is  the  sign  and  seal  of  the 
heaven-born  minister  or  physician.  Ordinarily,  he  seemed 
rather  stern  and  reserved,  almost  with  a  military  air ; 
but  those  who  had  once  looked  up  at  him,  from  beds  of 
weakness  and  pain,  always  maintained,  thenceforth,  that 
his  rugged,  scarred  face  was  very  beautiful. 

"You  talk  so  differently  from  Dr.  Carnaquay,"  mur 
mured  Jackson,  one  day.  "  He  preached  grand  ser 
mons.  I  heard  him  three  times ;  once  he  preached 
about  the  New  Jerusalem  —  it  was  grand,  powerful,  the 
way  he  talked.  I've  often  wanted  to  ask  him  about 
that  sermon.  It  seems  so  near  to  me  now  —  that  other 
world."  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  added,  more  wearily, 
"  But  he  seemed  so  different,  when  he  sat  here,  from 
what  he  did — when  —  when  he  was  preaching  it  there 
in  the  pulpit."  Another  pause,  and  he  continued,  with 
a  sweet  smile  of  content  lighting  his  face,  and  giving 
a  weak,  confiding  pressure  to  Freeman's  hand  :  "  Now 
you  seem  just  the  same  here,  that  you  used  to  in  the 


SPOTS   ON   THE   SUN  201 

pulpit  of  our  church.  It's  very  strange.  Everything  is 
strange."  His  eyes  closed,  and  he  added,  as  if  to  him 
self,  "What  a  grand  preacher  Dr.  Carnaquay  was  !  " 

That  was  Freeman's  fate — to  be  loved,  not  admired. 
For  one  brief  instant  the  black  mist  of  envy  gathered  in 
his  breast ;  but  in  another  instant  it  was  cast  out,  and 
he  was  content  to  be  —  himself,  and  to  give  himself,  in 
service,  and  to  try  to  keep  his  soul  "  unspotted  from  the 
world." 

Of  course,  when  the  end  of  the  earthly  life  came  to 
the  poor,  tired,  young  house-painter,  Mr.  Freeman  was 
expected  to  conduct  the  funeral  service.  Carnaquay 
was  not  thought  of,  and,  on  the  whole,  was  rather  glad 
to  be  relieved  from  the  unpleasant  duty.  He  had  an 
abhorrence  of  disease  and  death,  which  was  like  that  of 
the  lower  animals ;  and  although  he  was  keen  to  feel 
the  conclusions,  prejudicial  to  himself,  which  might  be 
drawn  from  incidents  of  this  sort  (and  there  were  several 
of  them),  he  was  really  glad  to  be  relieved,  at  almost 
any  cost. 

There  was,  however,  plenty  of  real  courage  in  the 
man,  and  he  always  met  opposition  with  defiance,  rather 
than  concession.  So,  when  he  read  about  the  funeral, 
in  the  daily  paper,  he  said  to  himself,  "  Well,  Freeman 
is  a  good  fellow,  but  he  can't  preach  ;  I'm  lucky  to  have 
him  so  conveniently  near."  Then  he  grappled  resolutely 
with  his  next  Sunday's  sermon;  and  underneath  the  ear 
nestness  with  which  he  prepared  that  discourse,  and  the 
vigor  with  which  he  gave  it,  was  a  certain  defiance,  as 
if  he  said,  after  each  rounded  period  and  following  each 
cleverly  told  story,  "I'll  show  you  that  I  can  preach  — 
those  of  you  who  have  been  saying  mean  things  about 
me." 

There  was  at  least  one  person,  however,  whose  good 
opinion  he  was  concerned  about ;  and  that  person  was 


202  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

Mrs.  Guthrie.  She  did  not  appear  in  church,  for  two 
Sundays  after  the  dinner  at  Miss  Metcalf's.  Ronald 
Carnaquay's  bold  black  eyes  swept  every  lane  and  pene 
trated  every  nook  of  the  congregation,  as  Henry  Mor 
gan's  piratical  brigantine  swept  the  lagoons  and  inlets 
of  the  West  Indies;  but  in  vain  —  no  sign  of  the  clear, 
unflinching  eyes,  and  oval  face,  and  pink-tinted  cheeks, 
and  broad  brow.  He  was  made  irritable,  by  her  ab 
sence,  at  first  with  her,  then  with  himself ;  he  sus 
pected  that  he  had  not  appeared  in  a  favorable  light 
before  her,  at  Miss  Metcalf's.  He  had  not  made  the 
impression  which  he  always  aimed  at  making.  That 
was  due,  partly,  to  the  presence  of  the  somewhat  exact 
ing  hostess  ;  somehow  he  had  not  been  able  to  talk  to 
Mrs.  Guthrie  as  he  felt  he  could  have  talked,  if  they  had 
been  alone  together.  And  he  resolved  to  go  and  call 
upon  her,  the  next  week. 

An  excuse  was  easily  at  hand.  Was  there  ever  a 
church,  or  parish,  that  did  not  need  teachers  for  its 
Sunday-school  ?  So  he  would  go  and  ask  the  young 
widow  to  serve  in  this  capacity.  It  was  possible  to  go 
and  make  the  call,  without  any  other  avowed  purpose 
than  that  of  a  "  parish  call "  ;  but  Carnaquay  really  felt 
slightly  fortified  by  this  definite  errand ;  he  saw  his  own 
unaccustomed  hesitancy,  and  smiled  sardonically  at  it. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  was  at  home.  She  came  down,  at  once. 
Miss  Metcalf  always  kept  him  waiting ;  the  cause  of 
such  delays,  Carnaquay,  though  unmarried,  knew  per 
fectly  well  —  he  had  lived  with  sisters.  Mrs.  Guthrie 
did  not  say  that  she  was  delighted  to  see  him ;  she 
greeted  him,  however,  in  a  frank  and  friendly  way,  and 
motioned  him  to  a  seat.  When  he  had  stated  his 
errand,  she  replied,  without  delay,  that  she  could  not 
take  the  class.  "  I  could  not  agree  to  teach  such  views 
as  you  expect  to  be  taught,"  she  added. 


SPOTS  ON   THE   SUN  203 

"  Indeed  !  "  responded  the  surprised  clergyman.  He 
had  not  held  himself  especially  responsible  for  the  views 
taught  in  his  school.  He  had  introduced  some  manuals 
of  history  and  doctrine,  which  were  recommended  by  a 
clerical  friend.  "  And  what  is  the  matter  with  those 
views,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"They  are  simply  untrue,"  answered  Mrs.  Guthrie. 
And  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  facetiousness,  "  That  is 
a  slight  matter,  perhaps,  but  enough  to  deter  me." 

Carnaquay  did  not  much  care  what  views  were  or 
were  not  taught  in  the  school,  so  long  as  everything 
went  on  in  a  brisk  and  businesslike  way,  and  the  attend 
ance  was  large  ;  he  was  not  much  concerned  with  the 
details  of  character  building,  and  with  the  minute  and 
difficult  problems  of  the  child's  religious  nature.  Mrs. 
Guthrie,  however,  was  sensitive  to  all  such  fine  obliga 
tions  and  delicate  responsibilities ;  and  Carnaquay  was 
instinctively  aware  that  she  would  be  so,  even  before 
she  expressed  herself.  That  was  one  of  the  causes  of 
his  interest  in  her.  "  I  would  not  mind  your  imparting 
your  own  views,  if  only  you  would  join  our  corps  of 
teachers."  And  he  added  gallantly,  "  I  am  sure  you 
could  not  greatly  err." 

Somehow,  as  he  spoke,  she  perceived  that  he  did  not 
much  care  whether  she  taught  or  not.  She  already 
knew  the  clear  and  determined  way  in  which  he  usually 
set  about  any  plan  in  which  he  was  really  interested  ; 
and  now  he  seemed  willing  to  wander  from  topic  to 
topic,  instead  of  holding  to  the  ostensible  purpose  of 
his  visit.  They  talked,  in  a  discursive  way,  on  various 
themes,  he  seeming  inclined  to  bring  the  talk  to  more 
personal  and  intimate  subjects  than  she  chose  to  allow. 
She  had  given  up  teasing  him  ;  it  was  so  easy.  A  word 
of  praise  for  some  other  preacher,  and  she  could  detect 
a  narrowing  of  his  eyelids,  although  his  voice  remained 


204  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

undisturbed  and  his  bow  of  assent  was  steady  and  self- 
possessed.  Or  a  quiet  suggestion  of  doubt  as  to  the 
adequacy  of  unwritten  sermons,  and  he  quickly  came 
out  of  his  professional  calm  and  grew  warm  in  defence 
of  his  chosen  method  of  preaching. 

Now,  after  an  hour's  talk,  with  the  subject  of  Sunday- 
school  teaching  left  far  behind,  she  found  herself  talk 
ing  frankly,  judicially,  almost  condescendingly,  as  he 
asked  her  what  she  did  not  like,  in  his  sermons.  "  You 
know,  I  have  nobody  to  give  me  really  honest  opinions," 
he  said,  with  a  humility  that  was  unusual  with  him ;  "  I 
get  praise,  a  great  deal  of  it,  and  some  censure." 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  praise,  Dr.  Carnaquay." 

"  We  all  are.     What  is  more  natural  ?  " 

"  True,"  she  agreed,  "  but  some  feel  insulted  by  words 
which  others  would  drink  in  greedily." 

Whether  he  really  understood  or  not,  he  said  he  did 
not,  and  she  was  forced  to  explain ;  she  did  not  retreat. 
"  I  mean  that  some  ministers  are  delighted  and  satisfied 
with  praise  that  is  given  for  qualities  which  might 
be  creditable  —  to  an  auctioneer  or  the  end-man  in 
a  negro-minstrel  troupe ;  but  other  ministers,  having 
higher  ideals  of  the  Christian  ministry,  would  be  humili 
ated  and  warned  by  such  praise." 

Carnaquay 's  face  began  to  whiten  and  his  under  jaw 
grew  rigid.  He  had  courted  plain  speech,  but  this  was 
more  than  he  had  bargained  for — he,  the  popular  preacher 
and  successful  public  speaker.  His  voice  lost  its  flexi 
bility,  as  he  asked  curtly,  "  Then  you  believe  my  ideals 
of  my  profession  are  low  ?  " 

"  Well,  since  you  put  it  in  that  personal  way,  I  answer 
that  I  do ; "  and  the  fires  burned  brightly  in  Mrs.  Guthrie's 
cheeks. 

Ronald  Carnaquay  arose  stiffly,  with  a  ceremonious 
bow.  He  spoke,  "  I  thank  you  for  your  very  great  frank- 


SPOTS  ON   THE   SUN  205 

ness."  The  sarcasm  in  his  voice  was  unmistakable.  "  It 
is  somewhat  overwhelming,  perhaps  because  I  am  not 
used  to  being  addressed  in  this  way  .  .  ."  He  was  on 
the  point,  in  his  savage  anger,  of  finishing,  with  a  sneer, 
"  by  ladies."  But  even  in  his  wrath  he  stopped  short 
of  that  brutal  ending.  He  had  risen,  intending  to  close 
the  interview.  He  was  manifestly  angry,  and  did  not 
try  to  disguise  the  fact.  He  was  deeply  wounded  in 
his  vanity.  He  forgot  the  ostensible  object  of  his  visit, 
and  moved  abruptly  toward  the  door.  But,  at  the 
critical  moment,  a  diversion  occurred,  which  completely 
altered  the  line  of  his  thoughts,  the  current  of  his 
feelings,  and  perhaps  the  thread  of  this  narrative.  For 
a  pet  pug-dog,  which  belonged  to  another  member  of  the 
family,  had  come  in,  unperceived,  and  had  stretched 
himself  comfortably  beside  the  visitor's  chair.  Being 
one  of  those  animals  who  are  petted  into  calm  indiffer 
ence  regarding  all  danger,  and  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  having  become  dormant,  long  since,  in  his 
canine  bosom,  he  made  no  effort  to  anticipate  the  move 
ments  of  the  stoutly  shod  feet  near  him ;  and  when  the 
clergyman's  foot  came  down,  luckily  not  with  full  weight, 
on  one  of  his  extended  paws,  there  followed  such 
howls  and  whines  that  the  room  echoed,  and  its  two 
human  inmates  responded  involuntarily,  the  one  with  a 
truly  feminine  vocal  expression  of  fear,  the  other  with 
an  energetic  masculine  exclamation  of  surprise. 

The  little  creature  made  no  effort  to  flee ;  he  knew  — 
judging  human  nature  by  the  totality  of  his  past  ex 
perience,  which  is  all  that  we  human  creatures  can 
judge  by  —  that  the  pain  had  been  caused  accidentally; 
and  he  simply  sat  up,  in  a  helpless  and  entreating  way, 
holding  his  jammed  foot  raised  from  the  floor,  and 
looking  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  for  an  explanation 
and  some  sympathy. 


206  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Instantly  all  of  Carnaquay's  wrath  evaporated.  He 
was  genuinely  fond  of  animals.  They  were  not  intrusive, 
like  children,  asked  no  annoying  questions,  and  gave 
unqualified  affection  and  admiration.  He  impulsively 
stooped  down,  spoke  words  of  real  compassion  and 
regret,  patted  the  whining  little  creature  on  the  head, 
and  then  gathered  him  carefully  up  in  his  arms ;  and  he 
held  him,  talking  to  him  and  stroking  him  with  an  earnest 
ness  which  even  his  noisiest  sermonic  periods  lacked,  — 
a  warmth  of  kindness  which  his  hostess  had  never  before 
seen  in  him.  For  several  moments  he  remained  oblivi 
ous  of  her  presence  ;  then  consciousness  of  his  surround 
ings  returned,  as  was  indicated  by  his  rearranging  his 
coat  and  necktie,  which  had  become  slightly  disordered 
in  the  exciting  rescue. 

He  did  not  look  Mrs.  Guthrie  in  the  face,  at  first ; 
but,  after  putting  the  now  quieted  animal  down,  he  came 
over  to  her,  and,  in  a  calm  and  conventional  tone, 
apologized  for  the  disturbance  he  had  caused ;  then  he 
extended  his  hand,  bade  her  good-by,  and  went  out ; 
and  the  list  of  teachers  in  Emmanuel  Church  Sunday- 
school  seemed  in  no  prospect  of  being  enlarged  by  his 
visit.  Mrs.  Guthrie  took  up  the  little  creature,  petted 
and  fondled  him,  and  reflected.  Her  countenance  lost 
something  of  that  defiant  expression  into  which  it  had 
gravitated.  She  wondered  if  she  had  not  been  a  trifle 
too  plain,  in  her  strictures  on  her  visitor's  character. 
Then  she  recalled  his  genuine  remorse  at  having  hurt 
the  dog,  and  her  lips  even  silently  framed  some  of  the 
tender  words  which  his  had  so  warmly  uttered.  Cer 
tainly  the  man  had  a  tender  heart,  under  all  that  husk 
of  vanity  and  make-believe.  Had  she  done  just  right 
in  impugning  his  motives  ?  She  might  have  questioned, 
more  properly  and  safely,  any  of  his  outer  acts  ;.  but  to 
presume  to  judge  his  innermost  impulses  and  aims  — 


SPOTS  ON  THE  SUN  207 

this  was  a  rather  unwarranted  step.  She  recalled  his 
reproachful  looks  —  no  longer  angry  and  threatening 
and  scornful,  but  silently  reproachful  —  as  he  left  the 
room. 

That  look !  Was  it  a  sincere  expression  of  really 
wounded  feelings,  or  was  it  a  bit  of  dramatic  action,  on 
the  part  of  a  man,  who,  she  knew  well,  was  intensely 
dramatic  by  nature  ?  There,  at  least,  was  his  exclama 
tion  and  surprise,  and  there  were  his  first  few  impulsive 
words  of  pity ;  surely  those  were  spontaneous  and  ear 
nest  enough  to  satisfy  even  her  own  lofty  standard  of 
affection  for  the  lower  animals.  They  were  radically 
different,  she  reflected,  from  such  voluble,  evanescent 
expressions  as  Miss  Metcalf  often  used  —  Miss  Met- 
calf,  who  always  talked  loudly  about  her  dear,  dear 
pets  (dogs,  cats,  or  canaries),  but  parted  with  them 
very  easily,  as  death  claimed  their  over-fed  bodies,  and 
replaced  them,  in  rapid  succession,  with  new  favorites, 
and  never  gave  evidence  of  having  known  the  pang  of 
a  passionate  parting. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  walked  slowly  back  and  forth  in  the 
room,  holding  the  dog,  who  was  now  quiet ;  and  presently 
she  went  to  her  apartments  above,  wrote  a  letter  to  Carna- 
quay,  consenting  to  take  a  class,  then  sealed  it  with  her 
seal,  and  began  putting  on  her  wraps  to  go  out  and  post 
it.  But,  at  the  last  moment,  she  paused,  and  took  off 
her  wraps,  and  deposited  the  sealed  letter  in  her  desk. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A    DIFFERENCE    IN    METHODS 

"  No  process  is  so  fatal  as  that  which  would  cast  all  men  in  one 
mould."  —  WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING. 

RONALD  CARNAQUAY  left  the  house,  in  a  crestfallen 
state  of  mind.  You  could  not  have  detected  it,  had  you 
met  him  at  that  moment ;  he  was  a  man  who  was  self- 
indulgent  and  uncontrolled  in  several  ways,  but  in  the 
main  he  made  himself  do  what  he  wished  to  do ;  and  his 
naturally  enormous  vanity,  just  now  so  seriously  wounded, 
was  the  very  quality  in  him  which  made  him  pull  him 
self  together,  and  assume  a  calm,  smiling  exterior,  in 
readiness  to  greet  any  friend  —  and  he  had  many  — 
whom  he  might  encounter.  But  when  once  at  home, 
with  the  door  of  his  study  shut,  he  took  his  pipe  and 
lighted  it,  while  a  frown  settled  down  over  his  forehead, 
like  a  saturated  cloud  over  a  mountain  top.  He  mut 
tered  continually  to  himself,  and  kicked  a  hassock  out 
of  his  path,  with  unclerical  impatience  and  vigor.  He 
had  not  passed  through  an  experience  similar  to  the 
scene  with  Mrs.  Guthrie,  since  he  gave  up  "travel 
ling"  for  the  "trade."  Then,  occasionally,  some  irate 
customer  had  freed  his  mind,  in  monosyllabic  Saxon, 
and  Carnaquay  had  listened  to  some  unpleasant  state 
ments.  But  when  such  talk  came  from  masculine  lips, 
there  was  always  the  possibility  —  if  one  chose  to  ignore 
its  costliness  —  of  giving  quid  pro  guo,  and  thereby  ex 
periencing  a  sensation  of  relief  ;  but  in  this  case  his  hands 
had  been  tied  by  the  fact  of  sex;  also  by  the  fact  that 

208 


A   DIFFERENCE    IN    METHODS  209 

the  daring  young  woman's  words  were  not  uttered  in  a 
noisy  and  vituperative  way,  but  were  soft  and  well  modu 
lated,  yet  firm  and  confident.  Moreover,  there  had  crept 
into  the  clergyman's  mind  —  at  least  as  a  possibility,  as 
a  debatable  proposition  —  the  suggestion  that  perhaps 
she  was  right,  at  least  in  a  degree.  There  was  some 
subtle  influence  about  her  personality  that  made  Car- 
naquay  respect  her  mind  and  judgment ;  and  now  her 
judgment  was  that  he  had  not  high  enough  ideals,  in 
his  profession.  Could  she  be  at  all  correct  ? 

He  had  never  faced  such  a  question  before.  He  had 
seen  the  profession  of  the  ministry  solely  as  most  lay 
men  see  it,  from  the  outside ;  seen  it  as  composed  of 
preaching  sermons,  making  calls,  managing  clubs  and 
societies,  and  the  like ;  but  its  inner  life,  its  tides  of  pity 
and  love,  its  secret  consecrations,  its  wrestlings  with  self, 
—all  these  he  had  never  experienced.  He  had  seen  the 
profession  as  a  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  gift  of  flu 
ency  ;  and  he  had  been  lifted  on  a  wave  of  success,  at 
the  outset,  and  had  floated  easily  over  reefs  and  shal 
lows  ever  since.  He  had  gained  what  he  aimed  at ; 
namely,  crowded  houses  and  a  well-filled  treasury. 
What  more  could  be  expected  of  him  by  anybody  ? 
There  was  somebody,  however,  who  evidently  did  expect 
something  higher  from  him  and  was  disappointed, 
rather,  let  us  say,  "  scornful."  And  the  irritated  preacher 
glanced  at  his  furniture  and  his  walls,  with  a  new  kind 
of  discontent.  As  Freeman  had  diagnosed  him,  he  was 
indeed  honest  and  sincere,  in  his  main  purpose  of  meet 
ing  the  demands  of  the  ministry  in  an  adequate  fashion, 
as  he  perceived  those  demands ;  but  his  range  of  per 
ception,  like  that  of  many  a  pragmatic  business  man, 
while  very  clear  and  wise,  had  very  strongly  marked 
limits.  There  were  sentiments  and  ideals  and  sensibili 
ties,  which  he  had  never  possessed,  or  had  wholly  lost. 


2io  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Therefore,  while  he  gasped  under  the  spell  of  Mrs. 
Guthrie's  fascinating  scorn,  for  the  reasons  which  had 
led  to  her  outburst  he  groped  in  vain. 

Suddenly  he  bethought  himself  of  his  predecessor, 
Mr.  Freeman.  He  had  visited  Freeman  once  or  twice, 
and  there  was  general  amity,  though  no  very  warm  sym 
pathy,  between  them.  Carnaquay  knew  him,  in  part, 
but  looked  on  him  with  a  kind  of  condescending  pity, 
as  the  world  is  apt  to  look  on  people  who  are  too  feeble 
to  compete  very  vigorously  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 
Freeman  had  never  shown  to  him  any  of  his  inner  life, 
his  aims  and  his  principles  ;  and  Carnaquay  looked  upon 
him  as  simply  a  man  who  had  tried  and  failed  to  do  the 
thing  which  he  himself  was  easily  doing ;  namely,  to 
draw  a  large  congregation  each  Sunday  into  Emmanuel 
Church,  and  replenish  the  exchequer  of  the  society.  But 
Carnaquay  had  heard,  from  time  to  time,  various  ap 
preciative  remarks  about  his  predecessor,  which,  when 
uttered,  had  fallen  into  his  heart  like  seed  upon  dry  and 
barren  ground.  Now  he  recalled  one  or  two  of  those 
expressions,  —  "spiritual,"  "fervent,"  "consecrated,"  and 
the  like,  —  and  he  dimly  perceived  that  they  might  imply 
the  possession  of  some  qualities  which  every  clergyman 
ought  to  have,  be  his  congregation  large  or  small.  So 
he  resolved  that  he  would  see  more  of  Freeman  and 
find  out,  if  possible,  what  secret  of  influence  there  was 
in  the  man. 

The  next  day,  while  the  memory  of  his  repulse  by  the 
fair  young  widow  was  still  fresh  in  his  mind,  he  met 
Olive  Marshall  upon  the  street.  He  saw  her  in  the  dis 
tance,  walking  leisurely  along,  glancing  in  at  the  shop- 
windows  as  she  passed.  Her  step  was  elastic  and  free, 
and  the  sight  of  her  fresh,  sunny  face  somehow  glad 
dened  his  tired  heart.  As  he  drew  nearer  he  noted  her 
trim  suit  of  plain,  dark  green  cloth,  contrasting  agree- 


A   DIFFERENCE   IN    METHODS  211 

ably  with  her  blonde  face  and  hair,  and  silently  voted 
her  a  beautiful  modern  impersonation  of  Goethe's  Mar 
guerite.  He  was  pleased  to  surprise  her  with  a  sudden 
greeting,  for  the  round  satin  cheeks  flushed  so  charm 
ingly,  and  the  rosy  color  surged  up  and  submerged,  as 
if  in  a  carmine  wave,  the  delicate  violet  veins  on  the 
white  temples. 

Her  ingenuous  eyes  lifted  themselves  to  his,  and 
kindled  with  unaffected  pleasure.  "  I  am  ever  so  glad 
to  see  you,"  she  quickly  responded,  as  he  greeted  her; 
and  then  she  blushed  again,  as  if  regretting  her  too 
hasty  words. 

"And  what  did  Miss  Marshall  see,  in  the  windows, 
that  she  would  like  ? "  inquired  Carnaquay,  gently,  and 
yet  with  a  careless  disregard  of  any  and  all  answers. 
He  let  his  eyes  enjoy  the  face  and  figure  before  him, 
and  merely  talked  because  some  talk  seemed  to  be 
necessary. 

Olive  had  the  naturally  frank,  sunny  temper  of  her 
father,  but  lacked  the  hard  experiences  of  life  which 
had  given  the  mill-owner  much  worldly  wisdom.  Every 
body  had  always  smiled  upon  her,  and  smoothed  her 
path,  and  condoned  her  misdemeanors,  and  she  trusted 
and  wished  well  to  all  people.  But  this,  her  general 
attitude  of  sweetness  and  trustfulness,  received  special 
ization  and  emphasis  in  the  case  of  her  minister ;  him 
she  admired  with  that  extravagant  admiration  which 
young  maidens  so  often  give  to  the  man  who  openly 
voices  the  ideals  which  lie  concealed  in  their  timid 
hearts.  She  felt  flattered  to  have  "  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Carnaquay "  stop  on  the  street,  —  when  he  was  of 
course  occupied  with  serious  cares  and  solemn  prob 
lems, —  and  actually  give  all  his  attention  to  her;  a 
fractional  part  of  his  attention  she  was  humbly  thank 
ful  for,  on  Sundays,  as  she  listened  to  his  wonderful  dis- 


2i2  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

courses;  but  to  be  the  sole  object  of  his  thought,  for 
even  a  few  moments,  greatly  pleased  her,  and  for  a 
moment  confused  her. 

She  quickly  rallied,  and  was  more  charming  than 
ever,  as  she  sought  to  conceal  her  slight  confusion  by 
abruptly  turning  her  gaze  again  toward  the  store  win 
dow,  whence  the  minister's  greeting  had  withdrawn  it. 
"  See  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  a  lovely  copy  of  the 
'  Idylls  of  the  King ' !  I  was  just  admiring  it." 

"Ah — h?"  assented  Carnaquay,  with  a  rising  inflec 
tion,  much  preferring  nature  to  art,  at  the  moment,  and 
smiling  upon  her  charming  youthful  enthusiasm.  He 
had  never  entirely  read  the  "  Idylls,"  himself,  but  he 
knew  that  they  were  fitting  subjects  for  cultivated  ad 
miration.  "  Ah — h  ?  And  so  Miss  Marshall  likes 
Tennyson  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  responded  the  young  girl,  impulsively, 
pulling  at  her  glove  with  nervous  delight.  "  Oh,  yes  !  I 
think  he's  —  lovely." 

She  was  at  just  the  age  when  buoyant,  impressionable 
maidenhood  finds  everything  either  "lovely"  or  "hor 
rid."  And  Carnaquay  was  quietly  confident  as  to  which 
class  she  put  him  in.  As  he  stood  there  beside  her,  he 
bethought  himself  to  ask  her  assistance  in  the  Sunday- 
school  ;  and  he  at  once  proffered  his  request.  The 
reply  was  spontaneous  and  eager,  "  Oh,  yes,  it  would  be 
'  lovely '  to  help  in  that  work ; "  and  the  mobile  face 
looked  up  at  him  radiantly,  and  then  suddenly  clouded. 
"  But  I  really  don't  think  —  I  —  am  competent." 

Such  a  different  response  it  was  from  the  one  he  had 
recently  received.  And  his  heart  warmed  almost  grate 
fully  toward  the  fair  young  creature.  Her  unquestion 
ing  acceptance  of  his  suggestion  soothed  his  ruffled 
spirit ;  and  he  assured  her  that  she  was  fully  compe 
tent,  and  that  he  would  be  most  happy  to  have  her 


A   DIFFERENCE    IN    METHODS  213 

assistance.  Then,  not  readily  finding  any  topic  for  fur 
ther  conversation,  he  said  that  he  must  needs  hurry  away 
to  meet  an  important  engagement,  and  —  quite  unnec 
essarily  —  again  he  took  her  daintily  gloved  hand,  said 
good-by,  raised  his  hat  with  what  Mrs.  Guthrie  would 
have  remorselessly  called  "  a  flourish,"  and  was  gone. 

It  was  a  brief  interview,  but  such  interviews  often  are 
like  switches  on  life's  railway ;  they  seem  insignificant 
in  themselves,  but  they  command  widely  diverging 
pathways,  and  may  determine  the  fate  of  individuals  or 
even  of  nations. 

Ronald  Carnaquay  felt  his  spirits  revived,  as  he  went 
his  way ;  the  innocent,  sensitive  young  girl  had  called 
out  some  of  the  best  qualities  in  his  complex  nature ; 
and  he  reflected,  with  satisfaction,  upon  her  bright  face 
and  unspoiled  spirit,  and  said  to  himself  with  conviction, 
that  she  had  the  making  of  a  charming  woman,  and  — 
probably  —  a  devoted  wife. 

As  for  Olive,  she  found  her  nerves  tingling  with 
pleasurable  excitement;  and  when  she  reached  her  home 
she  went  straightway  to  her  room  and  took  from  a 
locked  drawer  in  her  writing-desk  a  letter  and  a  faded 
rose.  The  letter  was  a  brief  note  signed  "  Your  friend 
and  pastor,  Ronald  Carnaquay,"  casually  written  to  her 
by  him,  expressing  thanks  for  a  pen-wiper  which  she 
had  worked  for  him.  The  faded  rose  was  one  which 
the  eloquent  preacher  had  used  in  the  pulpit,  a  few 
weeks  before,  to  illustrate  his  great  discourse  on  "  Na 
ture  the  Handiwork  of  God."  The  romantic  young 
creature  had  crept  up  to  the  pulpit,  after  the  service, 
and  eagerly  and  stealthily  borne  away  the  flower. 

Within  the  week,  Carnaquay  found  an  opportunity  to 
carry  out  his  plan  of  having  a  talk  with  Lawrence  Free 
man.  There  was  an  expression  of  disgust  on  his  face 
and  a  feeling  of  perplexity  in  his  breast,  as  he  threaded 


214  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

his  way  among  the  narrow,  noisy  streets  of  the  North 
Side.  However,  he  presently  reached  the  house, 
climbed  the  dark  stairway,  and  was  fortunate  in  finding 
Freeman  at  home  and  alone. 

A  casual  conversation  was  entered  into,  but  it  did  not 
run  on  very  smoothly,  because  there  were  actually  few 
subjects  which  the  men  enjoyed  in  common;  Carna- 
quay's  methods  of  sermon  preparation  were  of  no  inter 
est  to  Freeman,  for  there  was  little  literary  or  historical 
or  homiletical  merit  in  his  pulpit  productions.  They 
took  on  their  interest  and  power  from  his  vigorous  and 
vital  manner;  a  few  books  of  travel  and  a  score  of 
collections  of  anecdotes,  together  with  his  own  objective 
observations  of  men  and  things  —  therein  lay  his  com 
plete  resources.  Moreover,  his  mind  was  given  to  such 
matters  during  but  few  hours  in  the  week,  because  he 
had  already  gathered  enough  stories  and  reminiscences 
to  carry  him  through  two  or  three  years  of  preaching ; 
and  that  period  of  time  was  as  long  as  the  restless  man 
cared  to  remain  in  any  parish.  His  real  interests  were 
in  business  investments,  the  rise  and  fall  of  stocks, 
the  industrial  development  of  cities  and  countries,  and 
the  political  news  of  the  day. 

His  knowledge  of  men,  on  their  practical  side,  was 
keen  and  quickly  available ;  and,  in  the  present  situation, 
although  he  had  little  idea  of  Freeman's  tastes  and  in 
terests,  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  his  host  was 
holding  himself  aloof  and  was  saying  only  such  things 
as  courtesy  demanded.  Therefore,  he  determined  to 
draw  him  out.  He  resolved  to  ask  questions  and  to 
bestow  compliments.  "  How  is  your  work  at  the  chapel 
going  ?  "  he  asked.  "  It  must  be  interesting." 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  replied  Freeman.  And  then,  lest  he 
should  appear  curt,  he  spoke  of  several  matters  which 
had  come  up,  of  late.  He  knew  that  his  visitor  took 


A   DIFFERENCE    IN    METHODS  215 

little  or  no  interest  in  such  things,  and  asked  about 
them  only  to  please  him.  Still,  one  must  be  civil ;  and 
Freeman  talked  as  pleasantly  as  he  could  about  this 
work. 

After  a  while,  Carnaquay,  moving  about  the  room, 
noticed  a  small  pile  of  books  on  Freeman's  desk,  and  a 
manuscript  evidently  in  process  of  writing.  "  What ! 
Got  your  sermon  started  so  soon  ?  Why,  it's  only  Tues 
day.  I  never  do  much  on  mine  until  Friday." 

Indeed,  he  did  not,  and  usually  not  until  Saturday. 
An  hour  or  two  of  reviewing  a  previous  sermon,  that 
evening,  and  an  hour  the  next  morning  before  church, 
were  sufficient  to  equip  him  with  the  decorative  and 
martial  armor  of  a  seemingly  new  discourse,  but  one 
that  was  really  old,  and  was  merely  scoured  and  re 
touched  for  that  new  occasion. 

"  That  is  not  a  sermon,"  remarked  Freeman,  referring 
to  the  manuscript.  "  I  can't  take  undeserved  credit  for 
getting  so  far  into  my  sermon,  so  early  in  the  week. 
That  is  an  address  which  I  have  been  asked  to  give,  be 
fore  the  Caledonian  Club,  next  month,  on  Burns — his 
character  and  work." 

"  I'd  like  to  hear  some  of  it.  Read  me  the  first  few 
pages,  won't  you  ?  I  gave  an  address  on  that  same  sub 
ject  two  years  ago." 

Carnaquay  cared  nothing  about  the  address,  but 
thought  to  please  his  host  and  thus  thaw  him  out.  He 
was  prepared  to  lavish  praise  on  the  address,  whatever 
it  might  be,  and  Freeman  knew  this  and  asked  to  be 
excused.  "  It's  only  my  rough  draft  of  the  thing,"  he 
explained. 

Carnaquay  had  an  instinctive  perception  that  when 
this  low-voiced  man  said  "  no,"  he  meant  it.  There  was 
about  Freeman  an  outward  gentleness  and  quietness 
that  contrasted  strikingly  with  his  visitor's  dash  and  self- 


2i6  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

confidence ;  but  at  times  there  were  to  be  noticed  a 
gleam  in  Freeman's  eyes,  and  a  metallic  vibration  in 
his  voice,  which  were  significant  of  inflexibility  of  will. 
Accordingly,  Carnaquay  changed  ground  a  trifle.  "  I 
wonder,  now,"  he  said,  lolling  comfortably  in  his  chair, 
"  what  you  will  do  about  the  —  the  —  rather  shady 
and  unsavory  side  of  the  Scottish  poet's  nature.  You 
know  he  wasn't  all  '  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,'  and 
'  Lines  to  a  Mountain  Daisy.'  ' 

Lawrence's  face  grew  even  more  serious  than  before. 
His  visitor's  suggestion  struck  a  real  response  in  his 
heart.  He  answered  slowly  and  thoughtfully  :  "  I  have 
considered  that  part  of  the  subject  carefully.  It  is  a 
difficult  problem,  but  I  have  decided  to  refer  briefly  to 
what  you  call  the  '  shady '  features  of  his  character, 
and  then  to  put  my  emphasis  on  the  bright  and  lovable 
and  commendable  parts." 

"  Better  leave  it  all  alone !  "  remarked  Carnaquay, 
speaking  with  conviction.  "Those  Scotsmen  want  praise 
heaped  on  their  idol,  without  any  suggestion  of  defects. 
That  was  the  way  I  treated  the  subject;  and  I  scored, 
too." 

Lawrence's  lip  curled  slightly.  "  I  don't  know  that 
'scoring'  is  the  object  of  my  giving  the  address.  They 
have  asked  me  to  speak  about  his  character  and  work." 
He  drew  his  form  up  unconsciously.  "And  I  shall  do 
just  that." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  said  his  visitor,  deprecatingly. 
"But  those  hot-headed  Scotsmen  won't  hear  any  adverse 
criticism  of  their  idol,  especially  when  they  have  taken 
aboard  several  glasses  of  claret  or  whiskey.  Now  you'd 
better  be  careful." 

This  was  not  exactly  the  side  on  which  to  approach 
Freeman,  implacable  advocate  of  truth  that  he  was. 
Such  advice,  such  counsel  to  expediency,  only  served  to 


A   DIFFERENCE    IN    METHODS  217 

confirm  him  in  his  determination.  He  started  to  say 
something  about  "one's  duty,"  and  "the  literal  truth," 
but  checked  himself.  He  felt  that  he  might  not  be 
understood,  and,  above  all  things,  he  hated  cant  and 
pose. 

Carnaquay  resumed,  placidly  patting  the  arm  of  the 
chair  and  gazing  idly  out  of  the  window.  "  It  would 
be  different  if  you  were  flatly  asked  your  opinion  about 
those  unpleasant  elements  in  Burns's  character.  Then 
you  would  have  to  give  a  plain  answer  ;  but  in  this  case 
you  need  simply  to  let  that  side  of  the  subject  alone. 
Silence  doesn't  always  give  consent,  by  any  means." 

"  No,  not  always;  but  it  would,  in  this  case,"  retorted 
Freeman,  warmly.  "They  have  really  asked  me,  by 
inviting  me  to  speak  and  by  naming  this  subject,  what 
my  opinion  is,  regarding  the  poet's  character ;  and  al 
though  I  have  considerable  Scottish  blood  in  my  veins, 
and  much  as  I  admire  many  of  Burns's  poems,  I  think 
he  did  some  things  which  were  cowardly  and  dishonor 
able ;  and  I'm  not  going  to  give  them  my  approval,  by 
silence,  on  such  an  occasion  as  that  dinner." 

He  spoke  with  such  animation  that  Carnaquay  swung 
around  and  looked  at  him,  with  newly  awakened  interest. 
He  began  to  perceive  an  unsuspected  fervor  and  vigor 
in  the  man  ;  and  he  scanned  him  instinctively,  out  of  the 
knowledge  he  had  of  his  own  histrionic  tendencies,  to 
determine  how  much  of  this  vigorous  language  was  due 
to  a  desire  for  dramatic  effect.  But  the  other's  eyes  and 
lips  were  convincing  in  their  intensity  of  feeling ;  and 
Carnaquay  had,  aroused  within  him,  a  respect  and  ad 
miration  for  this  man  which  he  had  not  anticipated. 
After  a  moment's  silence,  Lawrence,  somewhat  annoyed 
at  himself  for  his  warmth  of  speech,  turned  on  his  heel 
and  went  across  to  a  chair,  saying :  "  There  !  Let's  not 
talk  about  it  any  more.  Excuse  me  for  my  hot  words  !  " 


2i8  RONALD    CARXAQUAY 

And  he  continued,  lightly  and  pleasantly,  "  What  have 
you  been  reading  lately  ?  " 

A  natural  and  conventional  inquiry  between  clergy 
men,  but,  as  Lawrence  reflected  before  he  had  fully 
made  it,  a  somewhat  superfluous  one  when  addressed 
to  a  man  like  Carnaquay,  who  was  not  likely  to  have 
seen  half  the  books  which  were  familiar  to  his  host. 
The  visitor  retreated  at  once  into  his  professional  and 
oracular  depths,  and  responded  with  dignity  that  he 
had  not  been  able  of  late  to  find  time,  etc.,  etc. 

Then  he  recollected  that  he  was  talking  to  one  of  the 
"  cloth,"  a  man  who  could  not  be  hoodwinked  by  any 
such  flimsy  explanation,  who  knew  well  that  a  preacher 
must  find  time,  or  make  it,  to  read  considerably,  under 
peril  of  running  dry  intellectually ;  one  who  knew,  also, 
that  in  most  cases  the  minister  who  neglects  to  read  ex 
tensively  does  so  from  indolence  or  a  waste  of  his  time. 

Therefore  Carnaquay  ended  his  stock  apology  of  "  a 
lack  of  time  "  rather  abruptly ;  and  suddenly  changed 
the  subject.  "  I  wanted  to  ask  you,"  he  said,  "  if  you 
could  give  me  a  copy  of  that  prayer  you  made,  at  the 
funeral  of  that  young  house-painter ;  I  have  heard  it 
spoken  of  with  —  " 

He  stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  sentence,  seeing 
Freeman's  face  pale  a  trifle,  and  his  under  jaw  grow 
rigid.  Carnaquay  had  unwittingly  touched  a  theme 
upon  which  his  host  was  extremely  sensitive.  The 
subject  of  prayer  was  always  dealt  with  very  delicately 
by  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freeman ;  they  both  felt  deeply 
its  peculiar  sanctity.  And,  free  as  the  wife  was,  about 
criticising  her  husband's  public  work,  it  was  tacitly 
understood  between  them  that  his  spoken  words  of  com 
munion  with  the  Most  High,  were  never  to  be  discussed. 

Such  delicacy  of  feeling  as  this  was  quite  unknown 
to  Carnaquay ;  and  he  could  not  explain  his  host's  sud- 


A  DIFFERENCE   IN   METHODS  219 

den  change  of  manner.  With  a  strong  desire  to  lavish 
praise,  as  the  safe  resource  in  an  emergency,  he  said : 
"  I  heard  several  people  speak  of  that  prayer  in  terms 
of  admiration.  They  told  — 

"  Stop  !  "  interjected  Lawrence,  in  a  stern  whisper, 
and  with  an  authoritative  air,  and  raising  his  hand  as 
if  to  forcibly  silence  the  other's  speech.  To  have  this 
man,  of  all  men,  attempt  to  natter  him  —  about  — 
prayer, — that  was  too  much  for  him  to  bear.  The 
commendation  was  as  matter-of-fact  as  if  given  with 
regard  to  a  crop  of  potatoes,  or  the  cut  of  one's  gar 
ments.  He  turned  away  his  head  a  moment,  then  said, 
"  Mrs.  Freeman  and  I  discuss  most  things  about  the 
clerical  profession,  but  never  mention  the  merits  or  de 
merits  of  a  clergyman's  prayers." 

"Oh,  excuse  me!"  exclaimed  Carnaquay,  frankly; 
"  I  didn't  know  you  felt  that  way  about  prayer."  And, 
getting  no  response  except  a  sign  of  the  head  in  assent, 
he  said,  as  if  to  himself  :  "  Now,  I  don't  look  at  prayer  in 
that  way ;  I  don't  see  why  people  should  be  long-faced 
about  it.  Why,  I  feel  more  like  laughing  than  crying, 
when  I  pray.  And  the  reason  why  I  asked  for  a  copy 
of  that  prayer  of  yours  was  because  I  wanted  to  study  it 
a  little.  Perhaps  you  don't  write  out  your  prayers  as  I 
do.  Some  ministers  do,  and  some  don't.  For  my  part, 
I  think  I  get  better  results  when  I  write  them  out  and 
learn  them  by  heart." 

Lawrence's  feelings  were  always  intense,  but  were 
quick  to  yield  to  his  sense  of  humor ;  and  he  felt  a 
smile  stealing  over  his  face,  as  this  man,  admired  pulpit 
orator  that  he  was,  talked  about  "  getting  better  re 
sults  "  from  written  than  from  spontaneous  prayers. 
He  saw  that  it  was  the  congregation,  invariably,  that 
Carnaquay  held  before  his  mind,  preaching  to  them  and 
praying  to  them,  and,  in  most  cases,  chiefly  concerned 


220  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

in  winning  their  approbation.  There  was,  in  the  man, 
not  the  slightest  conception  of  that  mystical  communion 
of  the  human  soul  with  its  God,  which  is  the  essence  of 
all  true  prayer.  "  Each  man  (and  each  minister)  must 
do  as  seemeth  to  him  right,"  he  quoted,  pleasantly, 
and  with  no  trace  of  feeling. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  replied  his  visitor.  "  And  I  know 
that  I  do  best  when  I  write  out  and  memorize  my 
prayers." 

"Very  likely!"  agreed  Lawrence;  and  he  added,  as 
if  to  himself,  softly  and  thoughtfully,  "  prayer  is  such  a 
sacred  act ! " 

"Yes,  indeed!"  echoed  Carnaquay,  regaining  his 
normal  professional  tone.  "  And  so  many  other  acts  of 
our  lives  are  sacred,  too.  In  fact,"  he  remarked  cheer 
fully,  "  I  consider  that  all  human  life  is  sacred ;  don't 
you  ? " 

Lawrence  smiled,  and  replied,  "  Yes,  in  a  certain 
sense."  But  he  felt,  in  his  secret  heart,  that  his  agree 
ment  with  his  visitor  was  merely  in  words ;  he  knew 
that  Carnaquay  used  the  word  "  sacred  "  in  a  very  gen 
eral  and  superficial  sense,  and  could  speak  it  always  in 
the  same  cheerful  and  shallow  tone  that  he  now  used, 
never  knowing  by  experience  those  hushed  seclusions 
of  the  soul,  where  speech  is  wanting  and  symbols  fail. 
He  was  sure,  however,  that  Carnaquay  meant  exactly 
what  he  said ;  from  Mrs.  Guthrie,  and  others,  and  from 
the  rather  full  reports  of  his  sermons  in  the  newspapers, 
he  understood  that  the  gospel  which  was  now  preached 
from  Emmanuel  pulpit  was  the  wholesome  but  often 
inadequate  and  shallow  one  of  "  Good  Nature."  That 
was  the  underlying  thought  —  so  far  as  there  was  any 
—  in  Carnaquay's  sermons.  "  Cheer  people  up  !  Make 
them  laugh !  Laughter  aids  digestion  and  health." 
All  of  which  was  true  and  useful,  as  far  as  it  went. 


A   DIFFERENCE   IN    METHODS  221 

Quite  a  natural  line  of  counsel,  also,  from  a  prosperous 
individual  like  Ronald  Carnaquay,  whose  income  was 
comfortably  large,  and  his  success,  in  drawing  crowds, 
almost  phenomenal. 

The  pastor  of  Emmanuel  Church  went  away,  that 
day,  with  a  change  of  heart  toward  his  predecessor. 
Not  that  he  had  ever  felt  any  antipathy  to  him ;  he  had 
merely  thought  of  him  as  dull,  plodding,  with  no  force 
or  attractiveness.  Now  he  perceived  that  there  was 
much  hidden  power  in  the  man ;  he  had  felt  a  sugges 
tion  of  iron  or  steel,  under  his  courteous  and  even  con 
cessive  outward  manner.  And  he  somehow  liked  the 
very  vehemence  with  which  Freeman  had  turned  upon 
him.  In  his  own  life  everything  went  so  comfortably, 
and  everybody  bent  so  readily  to  his  will,  that  there  was 
a  tonic  effect  in  the  sharp,  unyielding  convictions  of  his 
friend ;  and  he  said  to  himself,  several  times,  on  the 
way  home,  "Freeman  is  a  good  fellow  —  a  capital  fel 
low.  I  must  see  more  of  him." 

This  admiration  and  friendliness  on  Carnaquay's  part 
was  increased,  a  fortnight  later,  when  he  learned  — 
through  the  newspapers  and  through  a  man  who  was 
present  —  that  at  the  dinner  of  the  Caledonian  Club 
Freeman  did  exactly  what  he  had  said  he  would  do. 
The  climax  of  the  scene  was  somewhat  stormy,  Carna 
quay's  informant  stated.  Freeman  was  the  chief 
speaker ;  and  he  gave,  at  the  beginning  of  his  address, 
words  of  warm  praise  to  Burns's  poetic  works ;  then  he 
referred  to  the  kind  and  sympathetic  nature  of  the 
poet  himself.  So  far,  the  company  —  at  this  stage  of 
the  dinner  somewhat  exhilarated  and  excitable  —  were 
one  with  him  ;  but,  from  speaking  of  the  tenderness  and 
generosity  which  grew  out  of  the  ploughman-poet's  rich 
emotional  nature,  he  passed  to  the  self-indulgence  and 
injustice  and  cruelty  into  which  that  same  uncontrolled 


222  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

nature  led  him.  He  spoke  in  a  clear  and  steady  voice, 
dealing  with  the  faults  of  the  great  poet,  not  scornfully 
or  even  severely,  but  tenderly,  regretfully. 

At  first  the  listeners  could  hardly  credit  their  senses, 
as  the  speaker  referred  to  the  weaknesses  and  faults  of 
their  idolized  countryman ;  then  an  ominous  stillness 
crept  over  the  hall,  and  one  or  two  sipped  nervously 
at  their  glasses.  There  was  constraint  visible  on  all 
faces.  They  had  listened  to  an  address,  each  year,  on 
this  same  subject,  during  a  succession  of  six  or  eight 
years,  and  never  before  had  any  speaker  ventured  to 
refer,  even  by  a  hint,  to  anything  less  than  the  highest 
and  purest  character  in  the  man  whom  they  had  met  to 
commemorate.  To  be  sure,  many  of  them  never  opened 
a  volume  of  Burns's  poems,  year  in  and  year  out;  but 
it  was  a  self-evident  maxim  with  all  that  "  only  good 
should  be  spoken  of  the  dead."  Therefore  a  feeling 
of  uneasiness  and  rebellion  arose  in  their  hearts.  Mur 
murs  of  dissatisfaction  became  audible.  And  through 
it,  quite  well  aware  of  what  he  was  doing,  Freeman 
went  on  :  "I  yield  to  no  man  present,"  he  said,  speak 
ing  earnestly,  yet  in  a  low  tone,  "  in  my  admiration  for 
•  Robert  Burns  when  truly  himself,  when  interpreting  the 
beauty  of  the  world  and  voicing  the  highest  longings 
of  the  human  heart ;  but  he  was  not  always  his  highest 
self,  not  one  of  us  is.  And  the  Scottish  blood  in  my  veins 
chills  with  regret,  as  I  recall  those  incidents  of  his  life, 
those  features  of  his  character,  which  remind  us  —  that 
'  to  err  is  human,'  and  make  us  trust  that  '  to  forgive  is 
divine.'  ' 

At  this  point  several  loud  coughs  were  heard,  and 
several  glasses  and  knives  were  loudly  clattered,  and 
the  president  of  the  society  partly  arose  from  his  seat. 
Those  of  the  company,  who  were  in  a  mental  condition 
to  discriminate  with  any  justice,  saw,  and  at  least  half 


A   DIFFERENCE   IN   METHODS  223 

admired,  the  courage  of  the  man,  though  they  felt  anger 
at  his  words.  "  I  have  been  asked,"  continued  Free 
man,  "  to  speak  before  this  company,  of  the  character 
and  works  of  one  whom  I  admire  and  love,  in  most  of 
his  acts,  as  known  to  us ;  but  I  would  be  untrue  to  my 
calling  as  a  teacher  of  Christian  morals,  if  I  were  to  say 
of  this  great  and  deservedly  beloved  poet,  even  to 
say  it  or  imply  it  by  silence,  that  he  was  in  all  respects 
a  model  for  the  youth  of  our  day.  We  must  not  admire 
him  blindly,  and  we  must  never  love  him  less.  His  was 
a  sincere,  impulsive  nature,  and  I  would  not  say  one 
severer  word  of  his  weaknesses  than  he  would  say  of 
them  himself.  The  easy  laudation  which  would  gloss 
over  his  faults  emanates  from  an  undiscriminating  mood, 
which  cannot  appreciate  his  stormy  nature  and  his 
hardly-won  conquests  of  himself.  Therefore,  let  the 
wreath  which  we  twine  in  his  beloved  memory  be  fash 
ioned  of  laurel  and  bay,  with  here  and  there  a  leaf  of 
cypress.  Let  his  fame  increase  with  the  unrolling  of 
the  years,  and  let  men  be  warned  by  the  shadows  that 
overhang  his  memory,  yet  be  thrilled  and  uplifted  by 
the  radiance  of  his  illumined  genius,  as  he  spoke  what 
was  given  him  to  speak  by  the  Almighty  concerning 
the  beauty  and  worth  of  lowly  human  life." 

By  the  time  that  he  had  reached  these  closing  words, 
the  listeners  had  lost  their  tension  of  nerves,  and  had 
given  him  again  a  measure  of  their  sympathy.  They 
saw  that  he  had  gone  as  far  as  he  had  intended,  had 
spoken  after  careful  preparation  and  with  great  delib 
eration  ;  they  saw,  too,  that  he  really  loved  the  man 
whom  they  loved,  and  they  half  suspected  that  he  loved 
him  more  intelligently  and  with  more  real  discrimina 
tion.  So  that  when  he  began  the  familiar  lines :  — 

"  Is  there,  for  honesty  poverty, 
That  hangs  his  head,  and  a1  that  ?  " 


224  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

giving  them  with  fine  expression  of  the  dialect,  there 
were  nods  of  approval  on  all  sides ;  Freeman  loved  the 
poem,  and  it  came  from  his  lips  with  such  vitality  and 
even  passion,  that  the  entire  company  sat  spell-bound, 
and,  as  he  finished,  responded  with  loud  cries  of 
"  Good  !  good  !  " 

Then  several  of  them,  nearest,  shook  hands  with 
him.  The  fact  was,  although  they  could  not  analyze 
their  own  feelings,  that  while  his  words  had  been 
honestly  critical  and  judicial,  they  had  not  been  bitter; 
and  after  them  had  come  this  outpouring  of  the  wonder 
ful  poem,  rendered  so  beautifully  and  so  sincerely,  that 
they  felt  the  speaker  to  be  one  with  them,  in  heartfelt 
admiration  ;  and,  discovering  that,  they  forgot  the  words 
which  had  aroused  their  ire. 

So  it  ended  happily,  though  it  seemed  unlikely  to  at 
one  point ;  and  the  members  of  the  club  felt  an  admira 
tion,  which  they  were  not  slow  to  express,  for  the  fear 
less  honesty  of  the  minister  and  his  fidelity  to  what  he 
believed  to  be  his  duty. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

WAYS    AND    MEANS 

"  What  had  the  life  of  Jesus  been  to  us,  if  we  had  only  the 
words  of  his  sermons,  without  the  record  of  his  going  about  doing 
good  ? "  —  MATTHEW  SIMPSON. 

THERE  were  many  other  incidents  coming  up,  from 
time  to  time,  in  Lawrence  Freeman's  life,  wherein  the 
native  worth  of  the  man  was  revealed ;  and  when  once 
the  men  and  women  around  him  began  to  see  in  him 
the  unostentatious  virtues  and  the  unpretentious  power 
which  were  really  there,  they  gave  to  him,  with  their 
admiration,  an  affection  and  trust  which  was  deeply 
rooted  and  abiding.  Ronald  Carnaquay  might  be 
admired,  but  in  a  dazed  and  almost  distrustful  way ; 
whereas  Lawrence's  friends,  when  once  made,  gave 
him  entire  and  enduring  confidence.  Carnaquay,  for 
example,  was  by  no  means  a  timid  man,  but  he  made 
a  considerable  show  of  such  courage  as  he  possessed. 
He  took  advanced  ground  in  his  theological  views,  and 
in  his  fellowship  with  other  denominations,  and  in  deal 
ing  with  problems  of  custom  and  conduct ;  but  he  was 
likely  to  tell  people  what  a  courageous  thing  it  was  to 
thus  step  out  beyond  the  beliefs  and  habits  of  the  fathers. 
Whereas  Lawrence  Freeman,  when  convinced  of  the 
right  of  a  course  of  conduct,  or  of  the  truthfulness  of 
a  new  idea,  quietly  but  firmly  urged  and  maintained 
it ;  and  only  later  did  people  see  what  courage  had 
been  involved  in  his  course  of  action. 
Q  225 


226  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Carnaquay  came  over,  from  time  to  time,  and  visited 
the  Freemans,  in  their  rooms  above  the  grocery  store. 
He  seemed  almost  a  different  man,  when  in  company 
with  Lawrence  and  his  wife,  from  what  he  was  with 
most  other  people ;  and  the  omniscient,  dominating, 
pulpit  manner  was  not  in  the  least  observable  in  him. 
Mrs.  Freeman  at  first  treated  him  rather  coolly.  Like 
most  women,  her  feelings  easily  took  the  lead  of  her 
judgment,  and  she  could  not  help  looking  upon  him  as, 
in  a  measure,  a  successful  rival  of  her  husband's.  Not 
that  she  regretted  their  leaving  Emmanuel  Church ;  far 
from  it.  They  were  in  every  way  happier  now  than  they 
had  been  in  that  parish;  still,  while  her  reason  thus 
acquitted  Carnaquay  of  any  wrong  toward  her  husband, 
her  heart  was  rebellious,  especially  at  first,  and  she  did 
not  welcome  him  very  cordially.  His  manner  toward 
her  was,  however,  warm  and  even  punctiliously  courte 
ous.  For  example,  he  had  a  showy  yet  attractive  way 
of  pulling  off  the  glove  of  his  right  hand,  before  shaking 
hands  with  her;  he  did  this  even  laboriously;  and,  although 
Mrs.  Freeman  afterward  laughed  about  it  with  her  hus 
band,  she  was  a  woman,  and  this  attention  and  others 
made  an  impression  upon  her. 

Carnaquay  was  evidently  trying  to  get  an  insight  into 
the  hidden  recesses  of  the  profession  which  he  had  now 
stood  for,  during  several  years.  He  asked  a  great  many 
questions  of  Freeman,  and,  as  was  learned  later,  he 
used  some  of  Freeman's  ideas  in  his  sermons ;  which 
was  proper  enough,  except  that  Lawrence  smiled  with 
amusement,  and  his  wife  smiled  with  scorn,  when  they 
agreed  that  the  great  pulpit  orator  probably  put  them 
forth  with  a  might  and  grandeur  far  transcending  any 
thing  of  which  Freeman  himself  was  capable.  "  It  is 
ability,  however,  Rebecca,"  asserted  Lawrence,  reprov 
ingly,  "  genuine  ability,  to  be  capable  of  expressing  so 


WAYS   AND    MEANS  227 

effectively,  by  voice  and  gesture,  a  thought  which  on 
another's  lips  would  not  have  weight.  The  full,  strong 
expression  of  an  idea  is  just  as  truly  a  mark  of  merit  as 
is  the  thinking  of  the  idea.  Let  us  credit  Carnaquay 
with  all  that  he  deserves." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  assented  his  wife,  with  a  satirical  smile. 
"  But  it  does  irritate  me  to  see  him  utter  sonorous  com 
monplaces,  as  if  they  were  the  winged  words  of  the 
gods.  You  yourself,  Lawrence,  can  say  a  thing  with 
effect,  if  you  really  respect  the  worth  of  the  idea ;  but 
you  haven't  learned  yet  to  equal  the  unction  of  that  old 
preacher  who  could  bring  tears  to  his  listener's  eyes  by 
his  tender  pronunciation  of  the  word  'Mesopotamia.'  " 

"No,  I  haven't,"  said  Lawrence,  with  equanimity; 
"  and  I  never  expect  to."  Then  he  added,  laughing : 
"  I  might  practise  on  the  multiplication  table.  I  heard 
the  other  day  of  a  great  actress,  Modjeska,  I  think,  —  at 
least  some  foreigner,  —  who,  on  being  asked  by  a  circle 
of  American  friends,  at  an  evening  party,  to  recite  some 
thing  in  her  own  tongue,  gave  them  a  touching  and 
pathetic  recitation,  which  moved  them  almost  to  tears. 
When  asked  the  name  of  the  selection,  she  archly  re 
sponded  that  it  was  a  portion  of  the  multiplication  table. 
She  had  quietly  amused  herself,  by  means  of  her  power 
of  dramatic  expression,  at  their  expense.  By  the  bye, 
haven't  you  noticed  that  our  friend  Carnaquay  has 
referred  to  Browning,  several  times  lately  ?  " 

"  I  have,  indeed.  And  I  meant  to  speak  of  it  to  you. 
Do  you  know,  I  have  been  putting  two  and  two  to 
gether,  and  I  have  concluded  that  he  is  considerably 
interested  in  Mrs.  Guthrie." 

"  What  ?     You  don't  mean  it !  "  exclaimed  Lawrence. 

"  Ah,  but  I  do.  Last  week,  when  you  were  out,  and 
he  called,  we  talked  a  little  about  Browning  ;  and  I 
gathered  that  Mrs.  Guthrie  had  advised  him  to  read 


228  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

that  poet,  and  that  he  was  making  rather  hard  work 
of  it." 

"  That  does  not  signify." 

"  No,  not  taken  alone.  But  you  know  that  she  has 
consented  to  teach  a  class  in  his  Sunday-school ;  and 
that  means  a  great  deal,  in  Adeline  Guthrie." 

"  But,  my  dear,  you  know  that  he  is  generally  under 
stood  to  be  rather  attentive  to  Miss  Metcalf." 

"  Pshaw,  Lawrence  !  You  men  rarely  read  those 
matters  correctly.  To  be  sure  he  sees  a  great  deal  of 
her,  goes  to  her  house,  eats  her  dinners,  smokes  her 
cigars,  stretches  himself  luxuriously  in  her  big  chairs, 
and  purrs  comfortably  under  her  fulsome  flattery ;  but 
he  doesn't  care  a  pin's  worth  for  her ;  and  he  reads  her 
like  a  book  —  not  like  Browning,"  she  added  mischiev 
ously,  "  but  like  one  of  his  favorite  volumes  of  Marryat. 
He  sees  through  her  smooth  ways,  and  plays  the  game 
with  her,  pawn  for  pawn,  castle  for  castle." 

"  You  may  be  right,  dear  ;  you  generally  are,  about 
such  matters,  only  I  don't  quite  see  it." 

"  Well,  another  straw  or  two  to  show  how  the  wind 
blows !  I  happen  to  know  that  he  calls,  with  consider 
able  frequency,  at  Mrs.  Guthrie's ;  and  he  calls  there, 
not  in  the  broad  daylight,  as  he  does  at  Miss  Metcalf's, 
but  always  in  the  evening." 

"  Oh,  he  talks  over  the  Sunday-school  lessons,  I  sup 
pose,"  said  Lawrence,  laughing  at  her  feminine  interest 
and  earnestness  in  this  affair  of  the  heart. 

"  Perhaps  so.  But  I  doubt  it.  And,  again,  he  speaks 
openly  and  easily  of  his  visits  to  Miss  Metcalf,  but  he 
never  mentions  his  visits  to  Mrs.  Guthrie." 

"  How  do  you  find  out  all  these  interesting  facts  ?  " 

"  Oh,  never  you  mind !  "  responded  Mrs.  Freeman, 
triumphantly.  "I  have  secret  and  reliable  sources  of 
information." 


WAYS   AND   MEANS  229 

"  Did  Mrs.  Guthrie  tell  you  about  the  visits  ?  " 

"  Just  like  a  man  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Freeman,  raising 
her  eyebrows,  with  a  show  of  superior  wisdom.  "  Of 
course  she  didn't.  If  she  had  mentioned  them,  I 
wouldn't  see  so  much  significance  in  them ;  but,  al 
though  I  have  given  her  several  openings,  she  never 
refers  to  any  such  visits.  Moreover,  when  I  made  a 
fling  at  Carnaquay  the  other  day,  just  as  a  bait  held  out 
to  her,  she  did  not  at  once  take  up  the  challenge ;  she 
is  quite  too  clever  for  that ;  but  a  minute  or  two  later 
she  told  me  about  his  kindness  of  heart,  and  said  he 
was  paying,  himself,  for  the  support  of  two  aged 
aunts." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  that.  I  long  ago  saw  that 
the  man's  heart  was  sound.  His  deficiencies  are  in  his 
moral  and  spiritual,  or  poetic  nature.  Still,"  added 
Lawrence,  facetiously,  "  he  can  afford  to  take  on  an 
other  aunt  or  two,  now  that  he  has  got  that  increase  of 
salary." 

"  What  increase  ?     Why,  I  haven't  heard  about  it !  " 

"  I  also  have  secret  and  reliable  sources  of  informa 
tion,"  repeated  her  husband,  in  a  teasing  tone.  "  No 
wireless  telegraphy,  though,  like  yours,  marvellous  and 
mysterious.  My  source  of  information  was  Mr.  Mar 
shall.  The  increase  isn't  generally  known  yet." 

Of  course  there  was  no  ignoring  his  wife's  importu 
nity,  even  if  he  had  wished  to  ignore  it ;  and  Lawrence 
related  substantially  what  Mr.  Marshall  had  told  him 
about  the  increase  in  salary. 

It  seems  that  Carnaquay  had  received  a  "call"  to 
another  church,  in  a  neighboring  city.  This  "  call " 
named  a  salary  five  hundred  dollars  larger  than  the 
amount  he  was  receiving  from  Emmanuel  Church.  Car 
naquay  had,  of  course,  courted  this  invitation.  He  had 
preached  in  the  vacant  pulpit,  had  given  non-committal 


230  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

responses  to  inquiries  made  of  him  by  the  trustees  of 
that  church,  and  in  every  way  had  sought  to  be  formally 
called.  But  the  church  was  not  at  all  suited  to  his 
tastes  and  talents,  and  he  had  no  idea  of  accepting  the 
invitation  if  he  got  it.  It  was  a  church  of  the  "  institu 
tional  "  kind.  It  was  situated  in  a  community  which 
offered  no  congenial  surroundings  for  a  man  like  Car- 
naquay,  and  it  labored  under  a  debt  of  twenty  thousand 
dollars. 

However,  the  formal  "  call "  had  come,  and  Carnaquay 
opened  the  letter  and  read  it,  with  the  same  kind  of 
satisfaction  which  a  whist-player  feels,  as  he  holds  in 
his  hands  a  trump  card  of  high  value. 

The  proper  way  for  him  to  have  proceeded  was  to 
call  together  his  trustees  and  consult  them ;  but  that 
kind  of  proceeding  would  have  been  too  tame  for  a 
man  of  his  nature.  Therefore,  he  spoke  to  nobody 
about  the  matter,  waited  until  the  next  Sunday,  then, 
at  the  close  of  the  service,  read  the  document  with 
great  deliberation,  and  closed  the  service  immediately. 
This  was  the  way  in  which  to  get  the  full  dramatic 
value  of  the  situation ;  and  Carnaquay's  ambitious, 
power-loving  nature  was  agreeably  stimulated,  as  crowds 
of  people  flocked  about  him  and  poured  praises  and 
entreaties  into  his  eager  ears.  Through  it  all  he  pre 
served  a  sphinx-like  reticence  as  to  his  purpose,  occa 
sionally  murmuring  something  about  being  "  led  by  the 
Lord,"  and  "opportunities  for  larger  service." 

A  week  passed  —  a  very  agreeable  week  for  the 
pastor  of  Emmanuel  Church.  He  enjoyed  his  posi 
tion,  his  "desirability,"  much  as  a  belle  enjoys  coquet 
ting  with  ardent  lovers.  Everybody  whom  he  met,  at 
once  broached  the  subject  of  the  "  call."  And  he, 
preserving  a  calm  and  deliberate  mien,  set  forth  the 
attractions  of  the  distant  beckoning  church.  This  atti- 


WAYS  AND   MEANS  231 

tude  of  his  gave  rise  to  the  belief  and  deepened  the 
fear  that  he  would  leave  Emmanuel  Church ;  and 
there  was  much  unrest  and  anxiety  —  all  of  which  was 
extremely  agreeable  to  Carnaquay,  always  a  clever 
tactician.  But,  during  such  periods  of  suspense  and 
uncertainty,  there  is  a  "  time  and  tide  "  in  the  affairs  of 
men.  Ronald  Carnaquay  knew  well  that  he  must  not 
delay  too  long  in  his  "  prayerful  consideration  "  ;  the 
public's  interest  would  bear  only  a  certain  amount  of 
strain.  So,  a  few  days  later,  he  signified  to  the  trus 
tees  of  Emmanuel  Church  that  he  was  ready  to  confer 
with  them ;  and  the  meeting  was  held  at  Dr.  Mixer's 
house. 

As  Lawrence  Freeman  recounted  the  interview  to  his 
wife,  interpreting  Mr.  Marshall's  report  as  only  a  min 
ister  could  do  it,  husband  and  wife  broke  out  into 
laughter,  at  various  occurrences.  Carnaquay  had  evi 
dently  made  one  of  his  solemn  speeches  about  the 
"  exhausting  character  of  his  labors  "  and  the  "exacting 
demands  "  of  his  pulpit  efforts. 

It  was  a  theme  which  that  fluent  individual  never 
dwelt  upon,  in  the  Freeman  household,  for  he  was  well 
aware  that  the  Freemans  knew  his  intense  enjoyment 
of  public  speech ;  but  it  often  was  amplified  elsewhere, 
with  good  effect,  as  at  this  meeting  of  the  trustees; 
and  poor  Mr.  Pidge's  ridge  of  encircling  red  locks 
stood  up  in  a  fringe  of  fiery  anxiety,  lest  the  pastor 
should  really  go,  and  he,  the  treasurer,  fall  from  his 
elevation  of  ease  and  glory,  as  custodian  of  a  full 
exchequer.  Some  of  the  trustees  shared  their  alarmed 
treasurer's  anxiety,  and  showed  it  with  foolish  frank 
ness.  But  men  like  Dr.  Mixer  and  Blaney,  and  even 
Mr.  Marshall  (who  was  getting  his  astute  minister's 
measurements  with  greater  and  greater  accuracy) —  these 
men  strongly  suspected  the  real  bent  of  their  reverend 


232  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

leader's  plans.  In  fact  Blaney  had  succinctly  expressed 
his  opinion  to  Dr.  Mixer  that  the  whole  thing  was  a 
"  bold  bluff."  This  opinion  was  shared  by  the  stout 
apothecary,  although  he  usually  had  sounder  reasons 
for  his  opinions  than  did  his  nervous,  irascible  hench 
man. 

After  Carnaquay's  impressive  exordium,  the  talk  took 
on  that  general  and  desultory  and  yet  watchful  character, 
which  always  comes  over  a  meeting  between  two  men, 
or  two  groups  of  men,  who  are  intent  upon  outwitting 
each  other.  The  minister,  however,  was  composed  and 
even  indifferent  in  his  manner.  He  was  waiting  for  the 
question  (which  came  in  due  time)  from  Dr.  Mixer, 
"  Would  you  be  able  to  remain  with  us  if  we  advanced 
your  salary  —  well,  three  hundred  dollars?" 

Then  Carnaquay,  with  a  steadiness  and  self-posses 
sion  which  never  could  be  equalled  by  a  "born  minis 
ter,"  sympathetic  and  sensitive,  intimated  that  if  —  if 
he  remained,  it  could  be  only  with  a  salary  fully  equiva 
lent  to  the  amount  now  offered  by  the  "  beckoning 
church." 

At  this  point  in  the  interview  occurred  the  diversion 
which  Freeman  and  his  wife  would  have  much  liked  to 
see.  Blaney,  convinced  that  Carnaquay  was  ready  to 
remain  at  the  increased  salary,  was  quick  to  feel  the 
restored  equilibrium  of  the  situation,  and  regained  his 
proper  official  superiority  with  a  leap.  And  he  pro 
ceeded  to  hint  that  the  church  was  conferring  a  consider 
able  favor  on  its  minister,  by  thus  straining  every  nerve 
to  increase  his  salary. 

Carnaquay  took  this  remark  suavely.  In  his  heart 
he  despised  the  petty,  vindictive,  little  trustee,  and  Blaney 
had  a  dim  suspicion  of  this  feeling. 

"  More  than  that,"  continued  Blaney,  who  always  in 
creased  in  courage  as  opposition  weakened  and  danger 


WAYS   AND    MEANS  233 

faded,  "  it  is  said  throughout  the  parish  that  the  pas 
tor's  visits  are  becoming  more  and  more  like  those  classic 
visits  of  the  angels,  which  we  have  all  heard  about ;  and 
with  this  increase  in  '  pay '  "  (Blaney  always  had  as  keen 
a  scent  for  a  harsh  word  as  does  a  buzzard  for  carrion), 
"  we  shall  expect  a  change  in  this  particular." 

Up  to  this  point  Carnaquay  had  given  no  distinct  sign 
of  mental  disquietude  ;  at  least  not  to  the  strabismic  per 
ception  of  the  man  who  was  speaking ;  others  of  the 
company,  more  accustomed  than  the  glib  Blaney  to 
intricate  commercial  negotiations,  thought  they  detected 
evidence  of  controlled  anger  in  the  clergyman.  And 
when  Blaney  started  again,  on  some  even  more  snarling 
generalization,  about  the  desirability  of  clergymen  being 
above  mercenary  aims,  they  were  not  wholly  surprised, 
though  partly  anxious  and  partly  gratified,  to  see  Carna 
quay  slowly  lift  his  gaze  from  the  floor,  where  it  had 
been  fixed,  and  level  his  dark  eyes  at  Blaney,  in  a  threat 
ening  way.  He  next  arose,  with  marked  deliberation, 
and  interrupted  the  man  with  a  tone  and  gesture  of 
command,  which  made  jackal-like  Blaney  subside  into 
silence. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  began  Carnaquay,  in  his  blandest 
and  most  formal  speech,  yet  giving  his  opponent  an  icy 
look  which  chilled  him  to  the  marrow,  —  "  my  dear  sir, 
permit  me  to  express  to  you,  in  the  presence  of  these 
gentlemen,  my  clear  conviction  that  you  are  transgress 
ing  the  bounds  of  decorum  and  decency.  The  restric 
tions  of  my  profession  prevent  me  from  expressing  my 
contempt  for  you  as  I  would  like."  He  slowly  raised 
his  long  arm  and  pointed  his  finger  at  the  now  trembling 
Blaney.  "  I  therefore  say  to  you  that  one  of  two  things 
must  be  done.  Either  you  present  me  a  written  apology, 
through  this  board  of  gentlemen,  or  I  accept  the  call 
which  has  recently  been  extended  to  me." 


234  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Carnaquay  stood  quite  still,  nearly  a  half  minute  after 
he  had  uttered  this  withering  speech,  and  seemed  to 
transfix,  with  eye  and  finger,  the  utterly  discomfited  and 
demoralized  little  man.  He  was  Blaney's  superior,  physi 
cally  and  mentally,  and  even  morally  in  some  ways ; 
and  his  utter  loathing  for  the  vermin-like  nature  of  the 
man  before  him  was  written  in  every  feature  of  his 
strong,  determined,  handsome  face. 

The  silence  was  absolute.  Then  Carnaquay  turned 
to  the  others,  and,  in  the  quietest  of  voices,  said :  "I 
regret,  gentlemen,  to  have  been  obliged  to  express  my 
self  so  plainly,  but  I  hold  to  the  terms  which  I  have 
named.  I  wish  you  all  a  very  good  evening."  And  he 
went  out,  master  of  the  situation,  knowing  that  his  power 
and  position  had  warranted  his  safe  outburst,  and  con 
fident  that  the  apology  and  the  salary  would  both  reach 
him,  in  the  regular  course  of  events.  And  he  was  quite 
correct  in  his  judgment. 


CHAPTER   XV 

"COMING  EVENTS  CAST  THEIR  SHADOWS  BEFORE" 

•'  Men  exist  for  the  sake  of  one  another.  Teach  them,  then,  or 
bear  with  them."  —  MARCUS  AURELIUS. 

MR.  AND  MRS.  FREEMAN  were  walking  home  from  the 
chapel.  It  was  Sunday  evening,  and  the  clergyman  was 
tired,  after  the  day's  duties ;  and  his  wife,  who  always 
followed  every  thought  and  movement  of  his  public  life 
with  sympathy  and  even  with  anxiety,  was  almost  as 
tired  as  was  he.  Lawrence's  face  showed  alternating 
feelings ;  his  brow  at  one  moment  became  clouded,  and 
straightway  the  corners  of  his  mouth  began  to  curl 
upward,  as  if  some  amusing  idea  were  struggling  against 
a  general  mood  of  depression. 

His  wife  noted  his  absent  manner,  and  inquired  con 
cerning  it.  "  What  is  the  line  of  your  reflections, 
Lawrence  ?  It  can't  be  next  Sunday's  sermon." 

"No,"  responded  her  husband,  slowly;  "I  wasn't 
thinking  about  next  Sunday,  I  was  thinking  about  this 
Sunday.  Did  you  notice  how  badly  those  boys  in  the 
Sunday-school  choir  behaved  ?  " 

"Indeed,  I  did,"  said  Mrs.  Freeman.  "At  one  mo 
ment  I  wanted  to  shake  some  of  them,  and  at  the 
next  moment  I  had  hard  work  to  keep  from  laughing 
outright." 

"  The  little  rascals  !  "  exclaimed  Freeman,  with  a  broad 
smile  on  his  face.  "  Uncle  Ben  can't  cope  with  them  ; 

235 


236  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

that  is  evident.  Something  must  be  done,  in  the  way 
of  change.  I  feared,  when  he  asked  permission  to 
gather  and  train  them,  that  they  would  prove  too 
much  for  him." 

"The  old  man  seems  fond  of  them,  though,"  said 
Mrs.  Freeman;  "he  treats  them  as  if  they  were  his 
own  children.  He  won't  relish  the  idea  of  giving 
them  up.  Do  you  think  he  has  any  suspicion  that 
the  plan  is  not  an  entire  success?" 

"  That  I  can't  say.  But  we  certainly  must  not  allow 
such  lawlessness  as  they  indulge  in.  Uncle  Ben  never 
can  control  them.  I  might  as  well  accept  that  fact. 
But  how  to  approach  him  on  the  matter !  I  hardly 
know  how  he  will  take  it.  He  is  so  devoted  to  the 
chapel,  and  especially  to  the  Sunday-school,  that  I 
really  don't  know  what  course  to  pursue." 

"You  might  write  him  a  letter  about  it." 

"Yes,  I  could  do  that.  In  such  a  case  a  letter  is 
easier  to  manage  than  a  direct  talk.  But  with  Uncle 
Ben  I  feel  reluctant  to  do  that.  He  is  so  absolutely 
straightforward,  himself,  that  I  feel  unwilling  to  use 
any  indirect  method."  And  after  a  moment's  reflec 
tion  Freeman  added :  "  I  think  I  will  adopt  the  simplest 
plan,  and  speak  to  him.  I  do  hate  greatly  to  hurt  the 
poor  old  soul's  feelings." 

The  next  morning,  being  Monday,  was  largely  given 
up  by  Freeman,  as  by  most  busy  ministers,  to  all  kinds 
of  little  duties  —  odds  and  ends  of  the  week's  work  ;  and 
among  these  fragmentary  tasks  was  the  visit  to  Uncle 
Ben.  He  found  the  old  man  clearing  away  the  remains 
of  his  breakfast ;  the  cats  were  finishing  their  morning 
meal,  and  one  of  them  was  licking  clean  a  plate,  evi 
dently  Uncle  Ben's,  where  he  had  left  it  on  the 
carpenter's  bench  which  served  as  a  table.  "  Ain't 
he  a  beauty?"  said  the  old  man,  admiringly,  to  Mr. 


"COMING   EVENTS   CAST   SHADOWS   BEFORE"    237 

Freeman,  and  nodding  his  head  toward  the  handsome 
tortoise-shell  creature. 

Uncle  Ben's  sleeves  were  rolled  up,  and  his  hands 
were  plunged  into  a  pan  of  dish-water.  "  That's  the 
one  ez  likes  music  best,"  he  continued.  "  Wait  now, 
I'll  show  ye  !  "  And  he  withdrew  his  hands,  dried  them 
hastily  on  a  mass  of  rags,  and  picked  up  his  violin. 
He  started  on  the  lively  "  Invitation  to  the  Waltz,"  by 
Weber;  and,  at  the  first  sound,  the  cat  sat  back  from 
the  now  emptied  plate,  and  licked  her  chops.  Next  she 
gave  an  expansive  and  comfortable  gape.  Then,  climb 
ing  down  to  the  floor,  in  the  sinewy  and  dainty  fashion 
of  the  feline  species,  she  came  over  and  rubbed  con 
tentedly  against  her  master's  leg. 

Pride  and  affection  beamed  on  Uncle  Ben's  round, 
red  face.  "  Tell  yer  what  'tis,"  he  remarked,  stopping 
the  music,  "  them  'ar  cats  is  cur'ous  creeturs.  They 
know  een  a  most'z  much'z  a  human.  Why,  you  kin 
allus  tell  which  way  the  storm  is,  by  the  way  them  cats 
p'int  their  tails  when  they're  a-washin'  up." 

Uncle  Ben,  with  fiddle  in  one  hand  and  bow  in  the 
other,  dilated  on  the  surpassing  value  of  his  pets  as 
weather  indicators.  Lawrence  agreed  amiably,  with 
nods  and  smiles.  He  always  saw  the  picturesque  ele 
ment  in  the  unique  old  figure,  and  felt  the  simple  sin 
cerity  of  the  nature  beneath  it.  And  when  Uncle  Ben 
triumphantly  extended  his  arm  and  fiddle  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  black  cat,  now  washing  his  face,  with  tail 
pointing  westward,  the  kind-hearted  minister  resisted 
the  temptation  to  point  out  the  tiger-gray  cat  by  the 
stove,  who  was  also  performing  his  ablutions,  but  with 
caudal  appendage  pointing  due  northeast. 

Lawrence  was  trying  to  find  some  good  opening  for 
his  distasteful  errand,  but  the  conversation  went  on,  for 
several  minutes,  and  no  opportunity  offered.  Perhaps 


233  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

he  would  best  take  up  the  matter  abruptly.  A  less 
sympathetic  person  would  have  made  easy  work  of  it ; 
Ronald  Carnaquay,  for  instance,  would  have  laughed 
and  joked,  and  in  an  offhand  way  made  clear  his  wishes 
to  the  old  man,  and  very  likely  would  not  have  caused 
him  much  pain ;  at  least,  if  he  had  opened  a  wound,  he 
would  have  soothed  and  healed  it  with  the  salve  of  his 
bluff  good  nature  and  rough  sympathy. 

But  that  was  not  a  way  possible  for  a  man  like  Law 
rence  Freeman,  who  had  a  feminine  delicacy  of  feeling. 
Lawrence  followed,  responsively,  Uncle  Ben's  lethargic 
monologue.  The  old  man's  unfailing  sweetness  was  a 
living  epistle  to  him,  anxious  and  even  irritable  as  he 
sometimes  was  tempted  to  become.  "  Naow  you  jest 
see  them  beauties !  "  said  Uncle  Ben,  leaning  over  from 
the  rough  box  which  was  his  pantry,  and  holding  out 
some  objects  toward  his  visitor.  Two  small,  salted, 
mackerel  they  were,  and  a  potato.  "  Ain't  they  lovely  ?  " 
continued  he,  and  his  big,  round,  red  face  showed  a 
genuine  delight.  "  Bill  Dawkins  giv'  'um  ter  me  this 
mornin' ;  thet  comes  er  gittin'  up  airly.  I  dew  so  love 
a  nice  mack'rel,  cooked  jest  right,  an'  a  nice  mealy  per- 
tater  with  it,  an'  some  salt  an'  a  leetle  mite  er  milk  — 
all  mixed  up  tergether." 

The  old  man  had  a  way  of  enumerating  the  virtues  of 
his  comestibles,  which  was  of  itself  appetizing.  He 
smacked  his  lips,  and  looked  as  tenderly  at  the  two  lone 
victims  of  hook  and  salt,  and  the  not  gigantic  potato, 
as  though  he  had  been  a  gastronomic  connoisseur  seated 
at  Bignon's  table  in  Paris. 

Freeman's  heart  gave  a  little  bound  of  tenderness  and 
pity,  as  he  looked  and  listened.  This  impoverished,  in 
firm  old  man,  happy  and  artless  as  a  child,  content  and 
even  enthusiastic  over  his  extremely  scanty  fare  —  it  was 
a  touching  and  suggestive  sight;  and  the  clergyman  saw 


"COMING   EVENTS   CAST   SHADOWS   BEFORE"    239 

with  new  force  the  truthfulness  of  one  of  his  oft-repeated 
"points  "  in  preaching,  that  physical  objects  and  external 
acquisitions  are  only  the  occasions  of  happiness,  whereas 
the  inner  capacity  is  the  real  cause  of  it.  He  was  on 
the  edge  of  suggesting  that  butter  was  also  good  on  a 
baked  potato,  but  he  restrained  his  tongue.  Butter  was 
not  on  the  list  of  Uncle  Ben's  daily  diet ;  it  was  a  lux 
ury;  and  when  it  came,  he  enjoyed  it,  and  when  it  was 
lacking,  he  enjoyed  the  salt  and  the  rather  thin  milk. 

At  this  point  Lawrence  saw  a  chance  to  broach  the 
subject  which  weighed  on  his  mind.  "  I  think  eels  are 
pretty  good  to  eat,"  said  he,  putting  as  much  gastro 
nomic  interest  into  his  voice  as  he  could.  "  Do  you 
ever  get  hold  of  any  of  them,  Uncle  Ben  ?  " 

Then  the  old  man  entered  upon  a  long  dissertation  on 
the  subject  of  eels  —  their  nature,  habits,  and  their  value 
as  food.  When  he  had  brought  his  remarks  to  a  close, 
Lawrence  added  a  word  of  agreement  and  then  went 
on  :  "  Yes,  eels  are  queer,  squirming  creatures.  Some 
times  when  I  see  those  boys  in  the  Sunday-school  choir, 
restless  and  active  and  mischievous,  they  remind  me  of 
a  basket  of  eels.  It's  their  nature  to  be  so,  I  suppose. 
I  think,  though,  that  they  cause  you  no  end  of  trouble, 
Uncle  Ben,  and  I  sometimes  wish  you  hadn't  the  care 
of  them." 

"They  hain't  much  trouble,  Mr.  Freeman.  They're 
awful  good  boys,  all  on  'em." 

"  They're  not  really  bad  boys,  I  know,"  responded  the 
minister,  pushing  steadily  on  in  his  purpose,  "  but  they 
are  very  hard  to  handle ;  and  I've  thought,  of  late,  that 
perhaps  I  ought  not  to  let  you  wear  yourself  out  with 
them." 

The  old  man  stopped  in  his  work,  as  he  always  did 
when  he  wished  to  talk,  and  said,  "  Naow,  do  you  know, 
I  love  them  boys,  an'  I  keep  thinkin'  they  are  a  gwine 


24o  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

ter  dew  better.  They  really  mean  ter,  only  they 
forgit." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  We  can't  expect  them  to  remember, 
very  long,  and  they  have  such  animal  spirits  to  control, 
that  I  don't  wonder  they  often  break  out  into  mischief." 

Uncle  Ben  did  not  reply,  and  Lawrence  went  on  with 
reluctance,  yet  with  determination.  "  I  was  speaking 
with  my  wife  about  it  yesterday,  and  I  told  her  that  I 
thought  we  ought  to  relieve  you  of  the  burden,  especially 
as  we  need  you  so  much,  with  your  violin,  for  the  general 
singing  of  the  school." 

Uncle  Ben  again  stopped  his  work,  and  stood  looking 
steadily  and  reflectively  at  his  visitor.  What  he  was 
thinking,  Lawrence  could  not  quite  determine.  The 
dull  old  face  was  never  an  expressive  one,  and  the  emo 
tions  behind  it  never  burned  fiercely,  but  always  with  a 
subdued  and  gentle  glow.  He  took  off  his  spectacles, 
and  wiped  them  ineffectively  on  a  piece  of  newspaper. 
"  I  mus'  say,  Mr.  Freeman,  ez  them  boys  does  try  my 
soul  sometimes,  an'  'Ithough  I've  prayed  fer  grace,  I 
don't  seem  to  git  'nuff  ter  keep  me ;  and  I  vaow,  I  dew 
almost  git  mad  with  'um  sometimes,  'specially  yisterday 
when  they  hid  my  fiddle-bow  under  the  cushions.  But 
there,"  he  added,  apologetically,  "  I  wuz  ashamed  to  git 
riled  about  sech  a  leetle  thing.  Why,  Mr.  Freeman, 
what  is  a  fiddle-bow,  viewed  in  the  light  of  eternity? " 

"You  dear  old  saint!"  exclaimed  Lawrence,  impul 
sively,  rising  to  his  feet.  Then  he  said  more  quietly, 
but  with  conviction,  "Well,  Uncle  Ben,  you  shall  not 
go  on  being  fretted,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  with  their 
capers.  I  will  not  allow  it.  We  need  you  for  other 
things.  I  shall  attend  to  the  matter.  And  now  I  must 
be  going." 

As  he  shook  hands  with  the  old  man,  Uncle  Ben 
cleared  his  throat,  in  a  preparatory  way,  and  began : 


"COMING   EVENTS   CAST   SHADOWS   BEFORE"    241 

"  Hold  on  jest  a  minute  or  two,  Mr.  Freeman !  I 
wanted  to  ask  a  favor  of  yer.  I  —  I  —  er  want  —  ter 
make  my  will." 

Lawrence  hoped  that  he  did  not  show  in  his  face 
the  utter  surprise  which  he  felt  in  his  heart.  "  A 
will !  Of  what  significance  would  be  a  will,  in  the 
disposal  of  such  slender  possessions  ?  "  But  Uncle 
Ben  went  slowly  on  :  "  'Tain't  much  I've  got,  but  these 
'ere  things  er  mine,  when  I'm  through  with  'em,  I  don't 
want  strangers  to  knock  'em  round.  I  want  you  to  hev 
'em."  And  he  laid  his  other  hand  (both  hands  wet  from 
his  dish  washing)  affectionately  on  Freeman's  hand. 

Lawrence  was  taken  wholly  by  surprise,  and  was 
deeply  moved  with  the  pathos  of  the  situation.  His 
mind  rapidly  took  an  inventory  of  the  poor  old  man's 
effects  —  a  chair  or  two,  a  few  pots  and  kettles,  one  or 
two  ugly  chromo  pictures,  and  a  half  dozen  dilapidated 
books.  Not  much  more.  But  the  old  man's  all.  And 
to  be  given  away  by  a  will !  And  the  cats  also !  the 
cats !  At  least  four  in  number.  Were  they  to  be  in 
cluded  in  the  legacy  ? 

The  mingled  humor  and  pathos  were  almost  more 
than  Lawrence  could  meet,  with  a  calm  face ;  but  he 
saw  how  earnest  his  old  friend  was,  and  he  received  his 
words  sympathetically.  "  I  respect  your  wish,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  feel  honored  by  your  confidence.  Now,  if  you 
really  hold  to  your  purpose  —  " 

He  paused  interrogatively,  and  Uncle  Ben  nodded  his 
head,  "  Then  you  might  see  somebody,  and  have  a  will 
drawn  up ;  some  lawyer,  probably." 

A  slight  shadow  spread  over  the  old  man's  face,  at 
the  mention  of  lawyers.  "  I  don't  like  'em,  them  law 
yers,"  he  said  distrustfully. 

Lawrence  smiled.  He  knew  the  prejudices  of  such 
a  person.  "Well,  I  think  you  might  go  to  my  friend, 


242  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

Mr.  Marshall,  Mr.  Thomas  Marshall ;  you  know  him. 
He  has  had  experience  in  such  matters.  You  can  trust 
him." 

"Yes,  I  reckin  I  kin,"  assented  Uncle  Ben.  "I  was 
a  tellin'  Mis'  Snow  —  " 

He  suddenly  dropped  his  visitor's  hand.  "  I  snum  !  " 
he  exclaimed  with  clumsy  haste.  "  Ef  I  didn't  tell  Mis' 
Snow  I'd  come  over  to  see  her  this  forenoon !  An'  I 
clean  forgot  it." 

Whereupon  he  began,  with  a  ludicrous  effort  at 
haste,  his  preparations  to  go  out.  This  sense  of  obliga 
tion  was  so  strong  that  he  forgot  his  visitor,  for  several 
moments ;  and  Freeman,  silently  and  with  amusement 
and  yet  pity,  stood  observing  his  awkward  haste. 

"Well,  good-by,  Uncle  Ben,"  he  said,  at  length; 
"  I  must  be  going.  I  have  an  engagement  myself." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Freeman,"  responded  Uncle  Ben, 
busily  putting  away  his  dishes,  and  not  even  turning  his 
head.  "Come  in  again  soon!  I  love  ter  hev  ye." 
And  there  was  no  mistaking  his  honest  plainness  of 
speech,  despite  his  entire  neglect  of  conventional  cour 
tesies. 

So  Lawrence,  smiling,  as  he  walked  along  the  streets, 
at  the  novelty  of  the  scene  which  he  had  just  shared, 
went  back  to  his  rooms ;  he  was  eager  to  describe  the 
situation  to  his  wife.  It  was  one  of  his  most  natural 
sources  of  pleasure,  this  of  recounting  to  her  his  daily 
doings ;  and  he  knew  how  kindly  she  felt  toward  the 
simple  old  man,  and  how  eager  she  would  be  to  hear 
the  result  of  his  errand. 

Thus,  occupied  with  thoughts  half  amusing  and  half 
pitying,  he  reached  home,  and  as  he  entered  what  he 
and  his  wife  called  their  "office," -  —  dining  room,  study, 
and  reception  room  combined,  —  his  train  of  reflections 
was  disturbed  by  finding  Mrs.  Freeman  entertaining  a 


"COMING   EVENTS   CAST   SHADOWS   BEFORE"    243 

visitor ;  and  that  visitor  was  the  always  welcome  Mrs. 
Guthrie. 

Greetings  and  commonplaces  were  interchanged, 
and  then  that  sort  of  pause  ensued,  which  usually  comes 
where  two  people,  in  somewhat  confidential  intercourse, 
are  invaded  by  a  third ;  the  conversation  became  forced 
and  discursive.  Mrs.  Freeman,  always  a  little  reticent, 
seemed  more  reticent  than  usual.  The  fair  young 
widow,  whose  fresh,  rosy  face  and  large  dark  eyes  dar 
ingly  defied  her  mourning  garb,  seemed  making  a  dis 
tinct  effort  to  be  interesting. 

Freeman  was  too  sensitive  to  "  atmosphere "  to  be 
unmindful  of  these  things ;  and  soon  arose,  saying  that 
he  must  be  going  to  the  chapel,  to  overlook  some 
carpenter-work  in  one  of  the  class  rooms.  But  Mrs. 
Guthrie,  quite  as  quick  as  he  in  all  social  matters,  her 
self  arose,  took  a  hasty  but  affectionate  leave  of  both 
her  friends,  and  slipped  out  of  the  room  with  her  usual 
ease  and  grace. 

So  soon  as  the  two  were  alone,  Lawrence  said :  "  I 
see  that  I  intruded.  I  am  sorry  that  I  came  back 
quite  so  soon."  Then  he  went  about  some  work,  leav 
ing  to  his  wife,  if  she  chose,  to  explain  her  interview 
with  Mrs.  Guthrie.  This  was  the  unwritten  law  of 
their  happy  relationship ;  intimate  and  confidential  as 
that  relationship  was,  they  never  tore  down  reserves 
between  themselves,  but  each  left  to  the  other  the 
autonomy  of  his  own  circle  of  personality.  But  now, 
as  in  most  cases,  silence  was  broken  voluntarily,  and 
Mrs.  Freeman  said :  "  There  wasn't  so  much  conspiracy 
as  you  might  suppose,  Lawrence.  Adeline  ran  over  to 
invite  me  to  an  afternoon  tea,  and  just  as  you  came  in 
we  had  spoken  of  Ronald  Carnaquay." 

She  paused,  to  peer  into  the  work-basket  before  her, 
and  her  husband  smiled,  and  inquired  casually,  as  he 


244  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

turned  the  pages  of  a  concordance  :  "  Well,  how  does 
the  '  Great  and  Only '  get  on  ?  Still  electrifying,  I 
suppose." 

"  Very  likely,"  assented  Mrs.  Freeman,  "  although  we 
did  not  speak  about  his  public  life.  Adeline  told  me 
that  she  had  consented  to  teach  a  class  in  Emmanuel 
Sunday-school.  She  says  that  she  has  more  leisure 
than  she  knows  what  to  do  with,  and  I  rather  en 
couraged  her  in  her  purpose.  The  simple  fact  is  that 
she  is  young  and  very  active,  and  I  can't  think  she  is 
interested  especially  in  Ronald  Carnaquay.  She  spoke 
of  him  once  as  noisy  and  vulgar,  yet  her  voice  did  not 
have  quite  the  scornful  edge  that  I  have  often  noted  in 
it.  I  think  that  she  is  a  trifle  flattered  by  the  compli 
ment  he  pays  her  in  thus  urging  her  to  teach  ;  you  know 
he  has  no  lack  of  teachers." 

"  They  are  all  maidens  or  widows,  I  am  told,"  sug 
gested  her  husband,  with  fun  lurking  in  his  deep-set 
eyes.  "  That  is  the  joyous  fate  of  bachelor  ministers." 
Then  he  added  with  an  afterthought,  "  Isn't  Olive 
Marshall  teaching  in  the  school  now  ?  " 

Mrs.  Freeman  nodded  assent.  "  Yes,  Mrs.  Marshall 
objected,  somewhat,  but  Olive  had  her  way  in  the  end. 
She  is  a  dear,  sweet  girl.  I  wonder  —  I  —  have  you 
heard  anybody  speak  of  Ronald  Carnaquay's  showing 
a  somewhat  marked  interest  in  her  ?  " 

Lawrence  paused,  and  gave  serious  attention  to  his 
wife's  words.  "  No,"  he  at  length  replied,  "  I  have 
heard  nothing  of  the  sort.  Why,  Carnaquay  is  old 
enough  to  —  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Freeman,  with  her  under 
lip  curling  significantly.  "  Nobody  is  too  old  or  too 
young  for  anything,  in  affairs  of  the  heart.  Carnaquay 
is  not  far  from  thirty-five,  and  Olive  is  seventeen.  She 
seems  younger,  though,  for  her  mother  and  father  have 


"COMING   EVENTS   CAST   SHADOWS   BEFORE"    245 

wisely  kept  her  a  simple  girl,  as  long  as  possible,  not  let 
ting  her  become  an  affected  '  young  lady,'  at  a  premature 
age." 

"But  I  can't  believe,"  said  Freeman,  "that  there  is 
any  likelihood  of  —  " 

"  No,  perhaps  not ;  but  that  was  precisely  what  Mrs. 
Guthrie  was  talking  about,  when  you  came  in  so  sud 
denly.  She  told  me  that  in  her  judgment  the  young 
girl  was  infatuated  with  Carnaquay.  She  has  seen  them 
together  often,  and  the  child  shows  plain  signs  of  her 
great  delight  in  his  society." 

There  was  silence  between  them,  for  a  few  moments ; 
each  had  suspended  work.  Then  Freeman  said,  reflec 
tively  :  "  I  can't  think  that  anything  will  come  of  it ;  still, 
stranger  things  have  happened  ;  and  then,  too,  Olive  is 
a  woman  grown.  We  call  her  a  '  child,'  but  she  is  as  old 
as  many  young  women  have  been  on  their  wedding-day." 

"  But  she  is  so  unformed,"  suggested  Mrs.  Freeman, 
resuming  her  work.  "  She  has  no  more  worldly  wisdom 
than  have  most  young  people  of  fifteen." 

"  Very  likely,"  responded  her  husband.  "  But  that 
very  quality  of  ingenuous  simplicity  would  be,  by  psycho 
logical  laws,  the  very  thing  which  would  be  attractive  to 
a  shrewd,  distrustful  nature  like  Carnaquay's.  But  there  ! 
I  don't  credit  the  gossip  in  the  least.  For  my  part,  I 
would  more  incline  to  suspect  some  growing  interest 
between  Carnaquay  and  Adeline  Guthrie." 

At  this  point,  the  somewhat  absent-minded  clergyman 
recollected  that  he  ought  to  be  at  the  chapel,  to  overlook 
repairs ;  and,  taking  up  his  hat,  he  set  off  at  once. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

COEDUCATION 

"  God  be  thanked,  the  meanest  of  his  creatures 
Boasts  two  soul-sides,  one  to  face  the  world  with, 
One  to  show  a  woman  when  he  loves  her." 

—  ROBERT  BROWNING. 

IT  was  quite  natural  that  the  minister  and  his  wife 
should  be  interested  in  whatever  concerned  Ronald 
Carnaquay  and  Emmanuel  Church ;  and  their  interest 
became  doubled  when  the  future  of  their  dear  young 
friend,  Olive  Marshall,  was  under  discussion.  But  acute 
as  their  surmises  were,  they  were  made  in  the  dark; 
and  it  is  permitted  the  reader  of  a  transcript  of  human 
life,  like  the  present  one,  to  know  more  about  the  inter 
action  of  the  forces  involved,  than  does  any  one  person 
age  in  the  drama. 

I  may  say  at  once  that  Ronald  Carnaquay  was  in 
deed  considerably  drawn  to  Olive  Marshall.  In  part, 
he  was  interested  in  her  evident  interest  in  him,  so 
frankly  and  even  blushingly  expressed.  He  was  not 
unaware  of  the  nervous  tension  in  the  sylph-like  young 
maiden,  which  his  presence  aroused.  He  had  noted, 
often,  the  heightened  color  in  her  cheek,  and  the  bright 
ening  of  the  soft  blue  eyes,  as  she  became  aware  of  his 
presence.  He  was  even  not  above  adding  fuel  to  this 
romantic  passion  —  a  few  fagots  in  the  form  of  tender 
glances,  and  a  gentle  pressure  of  the  hand,  and  a  marked 
caress  of  the  voice  as  he  addressed  her.  So  far  as  he 
was  concerned,  he  simply  enjoyed,  sensuously,  the  agree- 

246 


COEDUCATION  247 

able  emotions  which  her  fresh,  youthful  face  and  figure 
aroused  in  him.  Beyond  that,  he  at  times  mildly  spun 
fancies,  and  even  calmly  wondered  (so  strong  was  the 
mercantile  instinct  within  him)  how  much  the  mill- 
owner's  wealth  would  net,  if  his  affairs  were  all  settled 
up. 

There  was,  however,  another  force  in  the  field,  which 
somewhat  complicated  the  situation.  This  was  Mrs. 
Guthrie's  conscious  resolution — framed  after  consider 
able  silent  debate — to  see  more  of  her  minister  and  to 
try  to  develop  him  into  a  higher  type  of  man.  "  Even 
if  he  must  become  less  a  minister,"  she  added  to  her 
self,  grimly,  "  in  order  to  become  more  a  man." 

Therefore  she  had  sent  the  note  of  acceptance  which 
she  had  temporarily  placed  in  her  desk,  and  she  had 
taken  up  Sunday-school  work  in  Emmanuel  Church. 
This  brought  her  in  contact,  repeatedly,  with  Carnaquay, 
and,  although  his  conceit  and  vulgarity  amazed  her,  she 
was  really  pleased  by  his  manifest  consideration  for  her 
opinions  and  her  society.  Moreover,  she  was  cognizant 
of  Carnaquay's  attitude  toward  Olive  Marshall,  and, 
like  an  athlete,  she  enjoyed  putting  forth  her  clever 
resources,  to  try  to  counteract  the  attractiveness  of 
Olive's  physical  charms. 

Thus  it  came  about  —  and  Ronald  Carnaquay  seized 
every  advantage  which  the  fair  young  widow  cautiously 
conceded  —  that  the  two  were  much  together,  alone ; 
and  although  the  object  of  the  various  interviews  was 
always  conspicuously  kept  in  view,  by  the  artful  clergy 
man,  Adeline  noted,  with  amused  interest,  that  he  was 
very  willing  to  talk  on  any  subject  whatsoever. 

What  she  really  aimed  at  doing  was  this,  stated  con 
cretely  :  She  was  resolved  that  he  should  dress  in  better 
taste,  out  of  the  pulpit  and  especially  in  it ;  and  that  he 
should  soften  down  his  glaring  extremes  of  manner ; 


248  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

also  that  he  should  read  more  and  think  more  on  sub 
jects  suited  to  his  profession  ;  and  especially  was  she 
tenaciously  bent  on  toning  down  his  inordinate  conceit 
of  his  own  abilities. 

She  secretly  called  him  her  "  savage  "  ;  and  she  was 
confident  of  educating  him  into  higher  standards  of  taste 
and  propriety. 

Carnaquay  had  seen  an  average  number  of  women,  in 
his  life,  and  fancied  that  he  knew  them  and  how  to  get 
along  with  them,  about  as  well  as  he  knew  men  ;  but,  as 
Adeline  Guthrie  quickly  perceived,  he  had  thus  far  seen 
little  of  really  cultivated  women.  He  had  often  met 
men  of  cultivation,  but  such  men  learn  to  waive  their 
own  finer  preferences  in  speech  and  manner  and  stand 
ards  of  taste,  when  dealing  with  other  men,  in  business 
ways ;  and  they  more  readily  adopt  the  tone  and  lan 
guage  of  the  street  and  shop,  than  do  the  women  with 
whom  they  associate  in  their  homes. 

Carnaquay's  one  redeeming  virtue,  socially,  as  she 
studied  him,  was  his  capacity  to  recognize  the  nicer 
standards  of  refined  womanhood,  when  he  came  into 
their  presence.  Often  her  instruction  of  her  apt  pupil 
was  conveyed  by  a  slight  raising  of  the  eyebrows  or  an 
abrupt  silence,  which  made  the  shrewd  man  reconsider 
some  raw  opinion  he  had  expressed,  or  some  rough  act 
which  he  had  committed.  Thus,  with  considerable  rapid 
ity,  he  modified  his  free  and  almost  swaggering  manner, 
and  recast  some  of  his  habitual  forms  of  expression. 
The  delicate  influence  of  Mrs.  Guthrie's  mind  and  taste 
was  soon  apparent  in  the  clergyman's  choice  of  neck 
ties  and  collars,  in  his  freedom  from  the  fumes  of 
tobacco-smoke  (which  formerly  permeated  his  clothing), 
and  in  many  other  matters  of  minor  morals. 

It  was  a  surprising  change  in  Carnaquay,  —  this  in 
his  personal  dress,  especially,  for  he  had  always  given 


COEDUCATION  249 

much  attention  to  such  matters,  and  had  flattered 
himself  that  he  dressed  in  the  most  approved  and  latest 
fashion.  He  had  done  so,  indeed,  but  he  had  always 
gone  to  that  extreme  in  each  fashion  which  makes 
"  loudness."  Now,  with  some  slight  twinges  of  chagrin, 
he  followed  her  wishes,  open  or  implied,  and  his  clever 
young  teacher  noted,  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  on  her 
red,  curving  lips,  his  rapid  improvement. 

There  were  many  sides  to  Adeline  Guthrie's  nature,  — 
as  indeed  is  true  of  most  people,  — and  she  could  show 
an  unfeigned  interest  in  many  fields  of  thought;  but 
perhaps  as  agreeable  to  her  as  any  themes  of  conversa 
tion  were  literary  and  artistic  subjects.  And  she  now 
took  pleasure  in  reading  and  discussing  with  her  friend 
and  pupil  the  works  of  the  great  poets  and  essayists, 
and  those  of  contemporary  writers  of  fiction.  She  soon 
saw  that  while  Carnaquay,  if  left  to  himself,  would  not 
open  a  book  like  "  The  Autocrat,"  or  "  Sartor  Resartus," 
or  "  Society  and  Solitude,"  yet,  with  another  person  to 
lead,  he  grasped  the  best  in  such  books,  with  evident 
pleasure.  And  he,  too,  soon  made  the  discovery  that 
although  she  gave,  most  abundantly,  intellectual  sym 
pathy,  she  promptly  drew  back  at  any  demand  upon  her 
for  a  more  emotional  sympathy.  She  was  ready  to  talk 
on  any  theme  whatever,  which  he  might  suggest,  —  socio 
logical,  aesthetic,  or  historical,  —  but  if  he  attempted  to 
push  toward  any  more  intimate  expression  of  the  ro 
mantic  sentiments,  a  chill  silence  fell  on  his  listener, 
and  he  quickly  found,  like  Orpheus  ascending  from 
the  lower  world,  that  his  Eurydice  had  slipped  away 
behind  him,  and  for  the  nonce  at  least  was  lost  to  him. 

Carnaquay  was  not  of  the  kind  of  men  who  fall  blindly 
and  unconsciously  in  love.  He  studied  himself,  yes,  and 
he  knew  himself,  rather  accurately ;  and  he  recognized 
the  possibilities  of  this  growing  acquaintanceship  with 


250  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

the  charming  young  widow.  He  studied  himself,  and 
doubly  he  studied  her.  He  knew,  for  instance,  per 
fectly  well  that,  although  she  was  bent  on  reshaping 
his  ideas  about  his  personal  appearance,  she  was  some 
what  lax  about  her  own ;  but  the  dark,  wavy  hair  above 
her  frank,  luminous  eyes,  —  although  those  rebelling 
locks  were  evidently  rarely  subjected  to  treatment,  and 
were  seemingly  shaken  into  shape  by  a  hasty  toss  of  the 
head,  and  never  knew  any  harsher  touch  than  that  of 
their  owner's  slender  fingers — those  mischievous  locks 
seemed  to  dance  defiantly  and  to  curl  in  derision,  at  his 
cautious  advance. 

Thus  matters  went  on,  between  the  two.  On  the 
clergyman's  part,  he  said  to  himself  that  he  had  never 
found  a  person  with  whom  he  so  much  enjoyed  talking ; 
but  he  confessed  ruefully,  at  times,  that  the  intellectual 
strain  was  a  severe  one  for  him.  And  once  or  twice, 
after  he  had  been  mercilessly  snubbed  by  his  young 
friend,  or  had  been  talked  to  with  a  maternal  severity, 
because  of  his  excessive  "  self-interest,"  as  Adeline 
stated  it  to  him  personally,  he  had  gone  away,  discom 
posed  and  angry,  and  had  accepted  the  standing  invita 
tion  of  Miss  Metcalf  to  dine  with  her.  At  the  great 
baronial  mansion  of  the  Metcalfs  there  was  freedom 
for  him,  yes,  and  many  agreeable,  soothing  words.  The 
snowy-turreted  spinster  "  adored  the  smell  of  tobacco," 
and  always  expressed  her  deep  joy  in  recalling  his  latest 
sermon.  He  could  not  help  reflecting  at  such  times,  in 
this  well-furnished  mansion,  how  comfortable  and  luxu 
rious  life  might  be  continuously  made  for  a  man,  by  its 
skilful  and  agreeable  owner. 

Yet  on  such  reveries  the  picture  of  that  other  snug 
little  sitting  room  would  intrude,  with  its  better  equip 
ment  in  books,  its  higher  tastes  in  pictures,  and  its 
piquant,  bright-eyed  occupant,  now  listening  with  eager 


COEDUCATION  251 

face  to  his  opinion  of  Kipling,  or  William  Watson,  or 
quirking  her  well-poised  head  on  one  side,  as  she  dis 
puted  some  point  of  his  belief  about  Lowell  or  Whittier. 

This  was  essentially  the  condition  into  which  affairs 
had  come,  at  the  time  when  Lawrence  had  unwittingly 
intruded  on  the  conference  between  his  wife  and  Mrs. 
Guthrie. 

Although  the  young  widow  rebelled  at  the  thought, 
she  knew  that  not  on  intellectual  levels  did  she  come 
closest  to  Ronald  Carnaquay,  but  in  the  emotional  realm 
of  music.  He  was  interested,  indeed,  when  they  read 
and  talked  about  abstract  themes  of  history  or  liter 
ature;  and  in  the  study  of  German,  which  they  tried 
together,  he  was  apt  enough ;  but,  when  at  times  her 
own  almost  inexhaustible  zeal  in  these  studies  flagged 
a  trifle,  she  became  painfully  suspicious  that  she  was 
leading  and  he  was  following.  On  her  rested  the  bur 
den  of  the  work.  He  had  ideas,  yes,  but  he  had  not  a 
self-feeding  fount  of  interest,  in  his  own  heart ;  and  many 
a  time,  as  consciousness  of  what  was  the  real  goal  of 
his  attention  and  effort  came  upon  her,  a  wave  of  color 
swept  over  her  face,  and  she  bit  her  lips  with  vexation. 

Now  in  musical  matters  there  was  a  marked  differ 
ence.  She  could  not  deny  the  fact,  subversive  as  it  was, 
of  her  cherished  plan  of  educating  and  reforming  the 
reverend  gentleman  intellectually.  Not  that  he  had 
any  particular  skill  in  playing  or  singing ;  he  had  not, 
and,  for  a  time  after  their  acquaintance  was  estab 
lished,  she  had  not  realized  how  much  music  meant  to 
him.  He  had  a  baritone  voice,  however,  of  fair  quality, 
rather  powerful,  and  he  had  a  correct  musical  ear. 
This  she  was  quick  to  detect,  when  he  had  yielded  to 
her  suggestion  one  day  to  sing  "  Robin  Adair."  She 
saw  at  once  that  he  was  wholly  untrained  ;  she  noted,  too, 
that  he  rated  his  natural  musical  talent  low,  which  was 


252  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

a  remarkable  thing  in  him.  Under  a  little  encourage 
ment  he  unfolded  rapidly,  and  much  enjoyed  singing, 
and  even  more  enjoyed  hearing  her  sing.  She  had  a 
good  degree  of  musical  technique,  but  sang  in  a  simple, 
unaffected  way,  which  often  deceived  listeners,  who 
were  themselves  untrained  and  expected  more  elabora 
tion  in  cultivated  singers. 

In  this  realm  of  music  these  two  people  often  came 
quickly  and  dangerously  near  together ;  so  Adeline 
Guthrie  perceived,  and  was  constantly  on  her  guard. 
She  never  felt  so  sure  of  Ronald  Carnaquay's  real  sin 
cere  self,  however,  as  when  he  and  she  had  enjoyed  an 
hour  of  music  together. 

On  one  rainy,  misty,  autumn  afternoon,  in  particular, 
there  almost  occurred  a  denouement  which,  had  it  really 
culminated  as  it  threatened,  would  have  seriously 
affected  several  events  and  persons  in  this  narrative. 

On  this  particular  afternoon,  dreary,  dripping,  deso 
late,  Adeline  sat  at  the  window  in  a  huge  arm-chair,  with 
a  copy  of  "  Anna  Karenina  "  in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes 
gazing  idly  and  forlornly  out  over  the  fields  and  inter 
vening  street.  There  was  a  despondency  about  nature 
that  afternoon  which  permeated  her  own  thought  and 
feeling.  Little  pearls  of  raindrops  pattered  from  the 
eaves,  and  tiny  necklaces  of  drops  stretched  along  the 
branches  and  twigs  of  the  elm  trees.  Smoke  from  a 
kitchen  chimney,  opposite,  sank  heavily  almost  to  the 
ground,  and  there  hovered  in  aimless  uncertainty.  The 
flag  on  the  schoolhouse  upon  the  hill  clung  discon 
solately  to  its  staff ;  a  few  wet,  miserable  sparrows 
shrank  under  cover  of  the  masses  of  ivy  on  the  house 
across  the  street,  and  chattered  and  scolded  so  loudly 
that  they  could  be  heard  even  with  the  window 
closed. 

The  young  woman  who  stared  absently  through  the 


COEDUCATION  253 

window  saw  none  of  these  objects  or  actions;  but  the 
general  temper  and  tone  of  the  damp,  depressing  day 
laid  hold  upon  her  spirits,  which,  as  a  rule,  were  more 
than  ordinarily  buoyant.  Her  interest  in  life  was  tem 
porarily  at  low  ebb.  She  recalled  her  past,  as  one  so 
often  does,  in  a  mood  of  despondency,  and  lived  over 
again  her  earlier  years.  She  often  had  boasted  to  herself 
of  her  independence  and  had  declared  that  she  never 
felt  lonely  ;  but  to-day,  as  her  soft,  round  chin  sank  into 
the  hollow  of  her  hand,  and  she  leaned  heavily  upon  the 
arm  of  her  chair,  she  presented  a  really  forlorn  appear 
ance.  She  hardly  knew  the  name  of  the  emotion  which 
at  times  rose  in  her  heart,  as  water  rises  in  a  well  fed 
by  remote,  unseen  sources.  It  was,  in  truth,  the  longing 
of  a  maiden  heart,  although  the  world  knew  her  as  a 
widow.  She  had  never  felt  the  fire  of  passionate  love 
sweep  through  her  soul,  burning  up  all  that  was  trivial 
and  base,  and  purifying  all  that  was  really  true  and 
eternal.  Her  affection  for  her  aged  guardian  and 
former  husband  had  been  more  an  emotion  of  grati 
tude  or  duty  than  of  human  sentiment  and  passion. 
For  a  certain  time,  after  the  late  Dr.  Guthrie's  death,  she 
thought  of  herself  as  a  woman  who  had  passed  through 
the  stages  of  maidenly  courtship,  wifely  sympathy,  and 
widowed  desolation ;  but  gradually,  as  she  matured  and 
learned  to  study  the  people  about  her,  she  perceived 
more  and  more  clearly  that  many  of  them  —  as,  for 
instance,  the  Freemans — concealed  beneath  a  partially 
prosaic  exterior  intenser  mutual  sympathies  and  pas 
sions  than  she  herself  had  ever  known.  She  seemed  to 
see  an  unknown,  untried  country,  partly  hidden  before 
her,  which  was  familiar  to  many  persons  about  her, 
a  land  which  she  was  supposed  to  have  entered,  yet 
really  had  never  entered.  She  was  hardly  more  than  a 
schoolgirl  herself  in  years,  but  her  spirit  was  so  adven- 


254  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

turous  and  so  self-reliant  that  she  always  had  seemed  a 
half  dozen  years  older. 

To-day,  however,  the  gloom  and  depression  of  the  hour 
bore  heavily  upon  her,  and  she  sat  in  the  big  arm-chair, 
sunk  in  sad  re  very.  Therefore,  when  she  suddenly  be 
came  aware  of  the  tall,  erect  figure  and  long,  eager  step 
of  Ronald  Carnaquay,  as  he  crossed  on  the  flagstones 
at  the  corner,  her  eyes  brightened  and  her  face  showed 
a  genuine  pleasure.  With  a  hasty  glance  around  the 
somewhat  disorderly  room,  and  an  instinctive  supple 
activity  of  her  fingers  about  her  throat  and  hair,  she 
went  to  the  door  and  welcomed  her  visitor. 

Usually  Ronald  Carnaquay  was  geniality  itself ;  he 
justified,  at  least  in  public,  his  somewhat  elementary  law 
of  life,  which  was  —  "  Cheerfulness  conquers  sadness." 
And  most  people  felt  brightened  by  contact  with  him. 
Adeline,  herself,  had  rarely  seen  him  in  any  other  mood  ; 
but  to-day,  going  to  the  door  suddenly,  without  leaving 
this  duty  to  the  maid-servant,  she  surprised  a  very  marked 
anxiety  and  gloom  on  her  pupil-clergyman's  face. 

Leaving  the  two  to  their  greetings  and  explanations 
and  light  badinage,  let  us  see  what  was  the  cause  of  this 
unusual  depression  on  the  clerical  countenance. 

This  it  was.  A  half  hour  before,  Carnaquay  had  been 
walking  along  a  road,  just  outside  the  town,  after  visit 
ing  a  sick  man,  when  he  discerned  in  front  of  him  the 
figure  of  a  young  woman.  His  long,  firm  stride  speedily 
brought  him  up  with  her ;  and  as  he  drew  near,  walking 
unperceived  on  the  sward  beside  the  road,  he  saw  that 
she  was  Olive  Marshall  and  that  she  was  reading  a  book. 

The  clergyman  felt  his  pulse  accelerate  pleasurably, 
as  he  traced  the  sylph-like  outlines  of  the  young  maiden, 
and  he  slackened  his  pace  and  kept  a  few  feet  behind 
her,  for  several  rods.  She  was  a  graceful  flower  of  a 
girl,  and  her  free,  frank  ways  were  very  winsome.  He 


COEDUCATION  255 

wondered  what  she  was  reading.  At  times  she  stopped 
in  her  sauntering  gait,  lowered  her  book,  and  gazed  up 
at  the  lowering  skies  and  on  the  stricken  trees  with  their 
few  fugitive  leaves.  Presently  he  quickened  his  pace, 
being  really  eager  to  have  that  fresh,  pink-and-white 
face  turned  up  toward  his,  and  to  read  her  tremulous 
admiration  in  her  humid,  dancing  eyes.  "  Good  after 
noon  !  "  he  said,  lifting  his  hat  as  his  nearer  step  aroused 
her  from  her  absorption.  And  he  prepared  to  receive 
from  her  one  of  those  sunny  glances  and  eager,  yet 
timid  inquiries,  which  had  so  often  quickened  his 
vanity. 

But  such  a  reception  was  not  to  be  his.  On  the  con 
trary,  Ronald  Carnaquay  here  met  one  of  the  surprises 
of  his  life ;  for  Olive  Marshall  turned,  saw  who  it  was, 
and  her  face  grew  rigid  and  stern,  and  in  a  most  distant 
manner  she  responded  to  his  greeting,  and  straightway 
returned  to  the  reading  of  her  book. 

Carnaquay's  quick  eye  saw  that  it  was  a  copy  of  Omar 
Khayyam ;  and  he  understood  that  it  harmonized  some 
how  with  the  dreary  tone  of  the  day,  and  was  an  inte 
gral  part  of  this  fair  young  creature's  mood,  as  she 
walked  dejectedly  in  solitude  here  in  this  dull,  dismal, 
country  road.  But  he  could  not  explain  her  surprising 
attitude  toward  himself ;  he  was  not  quite  disconcerted 
by  her  manner ;  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  easily  abashed  ; 
but  she  had  plainly  seen  him,  and  yet  had  looked  at  him 
with  a  cool  expression  of  aversion  on  her  fair  young 
face,  which  he  had  never  seen  there  before. 

She  made  a  considerable  show  of  indifference,  but  she 
was  only  a  child,  and  not  very  clever  at  acting  a  part. 
Her  eyes  were  glued  to  her  book,  but  Carnaquay,  walking 
beside  her  in  puzzled  silence  for  two  or  three  minutes, 
noted  that  she  did  not  turn  a  leaf.  Then,  too,  as  she 
stumbled  over  a  rough  place  in  the  road,  he  saw  her 


256  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

cheek  redden  with  vexation,  and  her  rosy  under  lip  was 
angrily  drawn  in  between  her  teeth. 

He  was  amused  and  yet  annoyed,  and  withal  perplexed, 
to  explain  her  strange  attitude  toward  him.  "  Olive,"  he 
began  quietly,  then  recollected  himself  and  amended, 
"  Miss  Olive,  may  I  ask  why  you  act  in  this  singular 
way  ? " 

There  was  an  amused  look  in  his  eyes,  which  she 
could  not  see ;  but  it  faded  away,  as  she  stopped  short 
in  the  road,  closed  her  book,  and  turned  toward  him. 
"I  do  not  wish  to  be  disturbed,  Dr.  Carnaquay,"  she 
said  in  a  determined  tone.  Then  she  waited. 

He  was  more  puzzled  than  ever ;  his  instinct  was 
more  toward  an  indirect  discovery  of  her  strange  aliena 
tion  than  toward  a  direct  and  candid  inquiry.  "  I  see 
that  you  are  reading,"  he  remarked  casually,  reaching 
toward  the  book.  "  What  book  is  it,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

But  she  would  not  meet  him  on  this  level.  She  drew 
back  the  volume  and  then  started  to  walk  on.  Carna 
quay  began  to  grow  anxious  ;  the  situation  seemed  more 
serious  than  he  had  supposed.  Then  he  noticed,  keep 
ing  apace  with  her,  that  there  was  a  suspicious  lump  in 
her  cheek,  and  he  detected  a  flavor  of  wintergreen  in 
the  air.  His  sense  of  humor  drove  away  for  the  mo 
ment  his  anxiety.  This  young  person  was  gloomily 
brooding  over  Omar  Khayyam,  and  communing  with 
desolate,  denuded  nature,  yet  with  a  piece  of  candy 
comfortably  tucked  away  in  her  pretty  cheek.  She 
seemed  to  him  more  than  ever  a  child  —  a  moody,  senti 
mental  child,  and  a  charming  one.  He  could  not  resist 
the  temptation,  and  he  remarked  mischievously,  "  I  like 
candy  myself." 

He  saw  at  once  that  he  had  angered  her.  She  was 
vexed  at  having  her  childishness  thrown  at  her,  at  this 
particular  time,  when  she  was  thinking  such  deep 


COEDUCATION  257 

thoughts  and  revelling  in  such  profound  though  de 
pressing  emotions.  She  broke  through  the  barrier 
which  she  had  set  for  herself,  and  exclaimed,  with 
youthful  impulsiveness  :  "  I  will  thank  you  to  go  on  and 
leave  me;  I  do  not  wish  to  talk  with  you.  I  do  not  — 
I  do  not  wish  —  to  talk  with  a  man  —  with  a  —  minister, 
I  mean,  who  —  who  preaches—  "  (she  stammered  worse 
and  worse,  but  the  blood  of  the  Marshalls  was  in  her, 
and  she  rounded  out  the  sentence  with  ringing  defiance) 
—  "  who  preaches  sermons  that  —  that  he  has  st  —  that 
belong  to  some  other  person.  There !  "  And,  nearly 
bursting  with  rage,  the  damsel  turned  abruptly,  and  set 
off  down  the  road  at  a  rapid  pace. 

Ronald  Carnaquay's  humorous  mood  was  utterly 
banished.  He  was  much  shocked ;  alas,  not  as  an 
innocent  person  is  shocked  if  charged  with  a  crime,  but 
shocked  and  cowed  and  yet  angry  at  being  found 
out.  Instantly  he  resolved  to  hasten  after  her,  and 
demand  an  explanation ;  but  for  two  reasons  he  de 
murred  :  one  was  that  he  was  disinclined  to  face  the 
enraged  young  beauty,  as  a  suppliant  of  even  the 
mildest  sort  —  that  would  be  too  far  from  their  pre 
vious  relationship ;  and  the  second  reason  was  that  he 
knew  she  was  substantially  correct  in  her  implied  charge. 
Palliate  and  condone  plagiarism  as  he  might,  and  even 
rigidly  forswear  it  for  the  future,  yet  it  hung  like  a 
black  cloud  over  his  past  and  he  had  hoped  it  was 
behind  him  forever.  "  Somehow  the  young  witch  has 
got  hold  of  that,"  he  muttered  ;  and  he  knew  how  much 
narrower  and  more  inexorable  is  youth  than  is  mature 
age.  Therefore,  he  was  very  doubtful  of  presenting 
adequate  excuses  to  the  irate  young  woman,  even  if  he 
were  to  attempt  it. 

Thus  he  walked  slowly  along,  allowing  Olive,  with 
her  quick,  nervous  steps,  to  pass  on  out  of  sight.  He 


258  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

wondered  how  many  people  knew  about  his  —  his  "mis 
taken  method  "  —  as  he  expressed  it  to  himself.  Then 
his  natural  buoyancy  asserted  itself,  and  he  gave  an 
angry  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  a  faint  smile  came  to 
his  face.  "  Confound  it  all !  It's  none  of  their  business, 
anyway,"  he  exclaimed;  and  then  he  added,  with  in 
creasing  self-confidence,  "  I  don't  believe  anybody  knows 
about  it  outside  the  Marshalls."  Whereupon  he  felt 
more  cheerful,  and  resolved  to  —  well,  to  go  where  he 
had  often  gone,  during  the  past  few  months,  —  to 
Mrs.  Adeline  Guthrie.  And  his  pace  quickened ;  and 
pleasurable  anticipation  alternated,  on  his  dark  mobile 
countenance,  with  briefer  and  briefer  periods  of  depressed 
reflection. 

In  this  mood  he  came  to  Mrs.  Guthrie's  door,  and  was 
ushered  in  as  we  have  seen. 

The  gloomy  look  which  the  young  widow  noted  on 
the  clergyman's  face  faded  away  under  her  smile,  like 
mist  before  the  sunrise.  She  had  been  dull  and  bored, 
and  even  gloomy  also,  and  she  was  genuinely  glad  to 
have  him  call.  And  he,  for  his  part,  thought  he  had 
never  seen  her  look  so  beautiful.  To  be  sure  her  hair 
was  a  bit  disarranged,  and  the  high,  tortoise-shell  comb 
at  the  back  of  her  round  head  threatened  to  part  com 
pany  altogether  with  the  insubordinate  tresses ;  but 
Ronald  resisted  the  temptation  to  push  the  fragile  ob 
ject  back  into  its  place,  or  even  to  mention  it  —  he  had 
vivid  memories  of  such  a  familiarity  on  a  previous  occa 
sion,  and  of  its  unpleasant,  frigid  results.  However,  he 
clasped  the  soft,  warm  fingers,  with  his  large,  damp,  firm 
hand,  and  said  to  himself  that  this  young,  rounded, 
refined  womanhood  was  incomparably  entrancing.  At 
the  sight  of  her  smooth,  level  brow,  and  large,  dark, 
fathomless  eyes,  the  memory  of  the  blue-eyed  child,  out 
in  the  country  road,  faded  and  faded,  and  her  pose  of 


COEDUCATION  259 

"  profound  grief  seeking  refuge  in  the  pessimistic  phi 
losophy  of  the  East"  —this  seemed  to  him  theatrical 
and  farcical. 

The  conversation  went  on  easily  between  the  two ; 
they  had  been  so  much  together  that  a  certain  amount 
of  intimacy  was  inevitable.  Yet  always  this  freedom 
was  maintained  on  one  level  only  —  that  of  the  intellect; 
and  any  attempt  on  the  clergyman's  part  to  depart  from 
this  level  was  promptly  checked  by  Adeline.  They 
were  like  workmen  in  a  mine  who  keep  to  a  certain 
vein,  although  aware  that  other  veins  exist  above  and 
below  them. 

The  melancholy  of  the  day,  and  the  previous  experi 
ence  of  at  least  one  of  them,  brought  them  into  sym 
pathy;  and  Adeline  unconsciously  found  herself  moving 
toward  the  piano,  rather  than  toward  her  book-case. 
"What  shall  I  sing?"  she  inquired,  being  apparently  in 
an  unusually  elastic  mood. 

Usually  she  was  reluctant  about  beginning  to  sing 
or  play,  although  eager  to  continue  when  once  started ; 
and  by  this  time,  in  her  association  with  Carnaquay,  she 
felt  sure  of  his  musical  sympathy.  So,  running  her 
fingers  over  the  keys,  in  a  meditative  way,  she  waited 
for  his  suggestion.  "  There  is  the  solo  that  our  soprano 
sang  last  Sunday,"  said  he.  "  What  was  the  name  of 
it  ?  She  sang  it  well,  I  thought." 

"Oh,  you  mean  'There  is  a  green  hill  far  away,'  by 
Gounod.  Yes,  she  sang  it  very  well.  So  well,  in  fact, 
that  I  think  I  will  not  venture  it  myself."  And  there 
was  just  a  slight  tinge  of  color  in  her  cheeks,  and  of 
artistic  vanity  in  her  heart,  as  she  laughingly  declined, 
"  Let  me  try,  instead,  Nevin's  '  Rosary.'  "  And  she 
added,  as  if  excusing  her  touch  of  vanity  to  herself, 
"That  is  better  suited  to  my  voice." 

Ronald  sat  where  he  could  see  her  beautiful  face  — 


26o  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

normally  quiet  and  even  stern,  but  often  transformed 
into  great  vivacity  and  vitality,  when  aroused  by  music, 
and  there  was  an  eager  almost  hungry  expression  on  his 
own  face  which  did  not  escape  Mrs.  Guthrie's  notice ; 
for  she  seemed  uneasy,  and  stumbled  in  her  accompani 
ment,  and  broke  off  in  the  midst  of  the  second  verse. 
"I  cannot  sing — I  will  not  sing  another  verse,"  she 
cried,  half  laughing,  yet  with  significance,  "  if  you  sit 
there  in  that  chair.  You  —  you  stare  so.  You  — 

She  cared  not  to  say  all  that  she  meant,  and  her  visitor, 
realizing  that  he  had  revealed  more  than  he  had  sup 
posed,  went  obediently  over  and  took  a  seat  almost 
behind  her.  Then  the  song  was  begun  again,  and  was 
sung  with  great  delicacy  and  tenderness.  It  was  simply 
done,  but  with  a  purity  of  fervor  that  was  captivating. 

Afterward  she  sang  one  or  two  other  songs;  and 
presently  she  began  —  hardly  knowing  what  she  sang  — 
that  passionate,  sensuous,  oriental  song  of  Delilah,  from 
the  cantata  of  that  name,  by  Saint  Saens  :  "  Ah,  to  the 
power  of  love  surrender !  Rise  with  me  to  its  heights 
of  splendor  !  "  She  gathered  interest  and  force  as  she 
sang;  and  her  great  black  luminous  eyes  opened  like 
starry  orbs,  as  she  expressed  the  fierce  savage  fervor  of 
certain  lines ;  and,  at  other  more  repressed  passages, 
they  sympathetically  curtained  themselves,  and  the  rich 
mezzo  voice  sank  into  wooing  luxurious  tones. 

She  was  singing  better  than  on  the  previous  songs, 
when  she  became  conscious  of  a  hand  on  her  shoulder ; 
it  tightened  its  grasp,  and  hurt  her.  She  stopped  short, 
surprised,  perplexed,  and  breathing  in  short,  angry 
gasps.  "  Why  —  why  did  you  — 

It  was  Carnaquay  whose  grasp  had  aroused  and  hurt 
her.  He  stepped  back,  from  before  her  indignant  gaze, 
as  if  apologizing  for  touching  her.  His  face  had 
an  appealing  look  in  it  that  further  surprised  her. 


COEDUCATION  261 

"Please  —  please  do  not  sing  that  song!"  he  ex 
claimed,  throwing  out  his  hand  impulsively.  "I  —  I 
wish  you  wouldn't  sing  it.  That's  all." 

Carnaquay  had  more  to  say,  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue, 
but  he  could  not  quite  bring  himself  to  utter  it.  He 
could  not  tell  this  woman  that  the  song  seemed  to  him 
to  taint  her  lips  and  her  soul,  as  she  gave  such  a  full 
interpretation  of  it.  He  had  once  heard  the  entire 
cantata,  and  he  was  willing  to  hear  any  other  woman 
sing  that  song,  but  not  this  woman.  He  could  not  and 
would  not  hear  it.  And  the  fierce  revolt  of  his  soul 
against  it  told  him  anew  how  precious,  how  holy,  she 
was  in  his  sight. 

As  for  Adeline,  she  was  puzzled  and  annoyed.  She 
had  rendered  the  song,  with  all  the  abandonment  of  an 
artistic  musical  nature,  caring  far  more  for  the  music 
itself  than  for  the  words,  and  she  could  not  quite  under 
stand  her  visitor's  abrupt  protest  and  evident  pain. 
The  maid-like  innocence  of  her  great  inquiring  eyes 
reopened  conjectures  in  Carnaquay's  mind,  which  he 
never  could  satisfactorily  settle ;  and  the  sombre  garb 
of  widowhood  which  this  woman  wore  did  not  help  him 
to  a  solution  of  his  problem.  At  all  events  she  was  a 
queen,  and  he  was  her  vassal. 

There  was  a  short  period  of  ill-adjustment;  and  then 
Carnaquay,  who  had  gone  to  the  window  and  was  star 
ing  out  into  the  mist,  noticed  that  she  was  softly  playing 
"Strangers  Yet" — that  simple,  sentimental  little  song 
which  she  had  told  him  he  should  be  ashamed  of  liking  so 
well ;  but  he  did  like  it,  and  she  was  softly,  invitingly  play 
ing  and  humming,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  free  to  join. 

Before  the  stanzas,  with  their  melodramatic  appeals, 
were  all  sung,  the  clergyman  was  in  full  swing,  singing, 
as  he  always  did,  with  vigor  and  no  self -consciousness 
and  a  genuine  love  of  rhythm  and  melody.  After  that 


262 

Adeline  tried  to  teach  him  Schubert's  "  Who  is  Syl 
via  ? "  But  he  was  evidently  not  so  fond  of  this  severer 
and  musically  purer  school.  After  a  while  he  recol 
lected  a  song  which  they  had  tried  once  before.  "  That 
song  of  Kennedy's,"  he  explained.  "  I  think  it  was 
something  about  gems." 

"Oh,  yes!  I  remember,"  responded  his  hostess,  turn 
ing  over  a  pile  of  music  — '  Deck  not  with  Gems,'  by 
Walter  Kennedy."  She  was  reading  from  the  title- 
page  ;  and  opening  the  music  glanced  over  the  words. 
"  By  Tom  Moore.  Dear  Tom  Moore.  He  knew  how 
to  write  love  poems  that  had  real  poetry  in  them. 
There  now  ! "  And  she  seated  herself  and  began  the 
accompaniment.  At  the  proper  place  she  nodded,  and 
Carnaquay  began.  He  did  not  know  the  song  well, 
but  he  was  apt,  and  the  music  fitted  the  words  so  per 
fectly  that  after  the  first  stanza  he  was  quite  at  ease 
and  rolled  out  the  phrases  —  not  so  delicately  as  his 
attentive  instructress  wished,  but  with  a  strength  and 
fervor  which  partly  annoyed  and  partly  frightened  her. 

"  Deck  not  with  gems  thy  lovely  form  for  me ; 
They,  in  my  eyes,  can  add  no  charm  to  thee." 

Adeline  Guthrie  felt  the  power  and  passion  of  this 
strong  man  flinging  itself  against  her,  as  the  rushing 
storm-wind  flings  itself  against  a  slender  but  pliant  sap 
ling  ;  and  she  bent  over  the  piano  as  if  trying  to  make 
out  the  music  on  the  page  more  clearly,  but  in  her 
heart  there  was  a  great  unrest.  Fear  and  anger  and  — 
and  something  that  was  not  either  of  these,  something 
that  was  almost  joy,  — yet  she  would  not  trust  it;  and 
she  hurried  on  toward  the  end  :  — 

"  Time,  on  thy  cheek,  his  withering  hand  may  press, 
He  may  do  all  but  make  me  love  thee  less  ; 
The  mind  defies  him,  and  the  charm  lies  there  ; 
I  must  have  loved  thee  hadst  thou  not  been  fair." 


COEDUCATION  263 

The  words  leaped  from  Carnaquay's  very  soul.  He 
never  had  sung  words  which  seemed  to  him  to  express 
so  perfectly  his  attitude  toward  this  divine  creature. 
Her  form,  her  face,  were  dear  indeed  to  him.  When 
he  had  touched  her  hand,  in  turning  a  page  of  the 
music,  he  had  seemed  to  feel  an  electric  shock,  and  her 
fingers  —  if  only  he  could  be  sure  —  seemed  tipped  with 
fire.  But  it  was  her  mind,  so  rich  and  full  and  alert 
and  sympathetic — her  very  self,  throbbing,  yet  restrained, 
behind  body  and  mere  intellect  —  it  was  her  own  dear, 
divine  self  that  he  loved ;  and  he  stood  and  sang  those 
thrilling  words  of  avowal  and  consecration,  as  if  he  were 
standing,  for  the  first  time,  before  the  altar  of  heaven, 
with  an  angel  smiling  upon  him. 

But  Adeline  Guthrie  did  not  smile.  The  song  ended, 
and  she  sprang  impetuously  from  the  seat,  as  if  released 
from  some  restraint.  Indeed,  she  was  much  nearer 
collapse  of  some  sort,  than  she  cared  to  acknowledge. 
She  knew  well  to  whom  Carnaquay  was  singing,  and 
she  was  flushed  with  excitement,  and  defiant  in  spirit, 
yet  she  was  glad  to  see  to  the  very  bottom  of  this  emo 
tional  nature  of  his.  There  was  usually  so  much  that 
was  artificial  in  him,  that  this  consuming  passion,  sweep 
ing  away  as  it  did  all  pretences  and  cautions,  was  a 
relief,  intellectually,  to  her ;  and,  even  in  her  heart,  the 
echoes  which  it  set  up  were  not  wholly  unpleasant. 

Carnaquay  could  not  quiet  down  to  the  reading  of  an 
essay  of  Emerson's,  as  Adeline  now  suggested.  His 
somewhat  curt  refusal  to  do  this  was  easy  for  her  to 
explain  ;  and  she,  for  her  own  part,  was  not  sorry  to 
have  him  decline,  and  almost  glad  to  have  him  take 
leave,  which  he  very  soon  did. 

She  was  much  more  self-possessed  than  was  he,  as 
they  shook  hands,  but  she  resented  the  vice-like  grasp 
of  possession  which  she  thought  he  gave  her  hand. 


264  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

And  she  went  back  into  her  room,  after  the  door  had 
closed  behind  him,  and  was  alternately  glad  and  re 
gretful,  by  turns  joyously  free  and  pathetically  lonely, 
and  considerably  chagrined  over  her  failure  to  keep  to 
intellectual  levels  of  instruction. 

Thus  matters  stood  between  them,  and  had  so  stood 
for  months. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MORE    SPOTS,    AND    LARGER 

"  How  save  the  Ark,  or  Holy  of  Holies,  unprofaned  a  day, 
From  his  unscrupulous  curiosity,  that  handles  everything  as  if  to 
buy  ?  " 

—  J.  R.  LOWELL. 

WHEN  Freeman  returned  from  the  chapel,  an  hour 
later,  he  found  Mr.  Marshall  there.  He  had  run  in  to 
see  Freeman  about  some  better  kind  of  heating  appa 
ratus  at  the  chapel,  but  first  Lawrence  asked  permis 
sion  to  tell  them  both  about  the  scene  at  Uncle  Ben's. 
"  So  you  may  expect  a  call  from  him  at  any  time,"  con 
cluded  Lawrence,  after  detailing  the  interview,  includ 
ing  the  old  man's  desire  to  make  a  will,  "and  I  beg 
that  you  won't  forget  about  the  cats."  Whereupon 
they  all  laughed,  and  Mr.  Marshall  promised  to  fulfil  his 
duties  as  well  as  he  could. 

After  the  discussion  of  the  heating  apparatus,  Mr. 
Marshall  still  lingered,  and  presently  sat  down  again, 
even  though  he  had  taken  up  his  hat  and  cane  to  go. 
"  I  have  thought  for  some  time,"  he  said,  "  of  talking 
with  you  and  Mr.  Freeman  about  our  minister,  Dr. 
Carnaquay.  You  know  me  well  enough  to  be  sure  that 
I  am  not  a  man  to  encourage  idle  gossip,  and  I  can 
therefore  speak  plainly  —  in  fact  we  all  can  —  without 
reserve." 

Instantly  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freeman  were  on  the  alert, 
and  feared  that  they  were  to  hear  something  unpleasant 
about  Olive  and  Carnaquay;  but  their  anxiety  was  soon 

265 


266  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

allayed,  as  Mr.  Marshall  said :  "  The  point  which  I 
wished  most  to  confer  with  you  about  is  this.  My  son, 
Ned,  was  reading  a  book  the  other  day,  —  a  book  of 
essays  by  an  English  writer,  —  and  he  came  upon  several 
sentences,  which  seemed  to  him  familiar ;  after  thinking 
a  while,  he  remembered  them  as  given  by  Dr.  Carnaquay, 
in  one  of  his  recent  sermons.  Not  fully  trusting  his 
memory,  he  went  down  to  the  newspaper  office,  looked 
over  the  files,  and  found  a  report  of  the  sermon  which 
he  had  partly  recalled.  A  comparison  of  that  printed 
report,  with  the  pages  of  the  book  by  the  English 
author,  revealed  the  fact  that  paragraph  after  para 
graph,  to  the  extent  of  a  full  page,  had  been  literally  and 
bodily  incorporated  into  the  sermon." 

"When  was  the  book  published?"  asked  Freeman. 

"  More  than  ten  years  ago,"  replied  Mr.  Marshall. 
"  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  the  question,  if  I  may 
ask?" 

"  Only  this,"  said  Lawrence  ;  "  I  know  that  preachers 
often  use  old  sermons,  and  I  wished  to  see  which  of  the 
two,  the  sermon  or  the  book  of  essays,  was  earlier  in 
print.  If  the  book  was  printed  so  long  as  twenty  years 
ago,  or  even  fifteen,  that  must  have  been  considerably 
before  Carnaquay  began  to  write  sermons  or  prepare 
them  in  any  way." 

Lawrence  then  waited  for  Mr.  Marshall  to  proceed. 
He  did  not  like  to  take  the  lead,  in  any  comment  on  his 
fellow-minister's  acts ;  but  he  could  not  refuse  to  con 
sider  the  subject  and  even  to  express  an  opinion  if  it 
were  asked.  He  wished  to  be  just,  although  he  was 
startled  at  the  suggestion  of  plagiarism  ;  it  was  a  clerical 
sin  which  never  had  any  attraction  whatever  for  him 
self  ;  but  he  knew  in  a  general  way  that  here  and  there 
preachers  yielded  to  it. 

"The    matter  has  troubled   me    considerablv,"    con- 


MORE   SPOTS,   AND   LARGER  267 

tinued  Mr.  Marshall,  leaning  forward  and  pushing  up 
his  thick,  black  beard,  as  was  his  habit  when  engrossed 
in  a  problem.  "  There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that 
Dr.  Carnaquay  has  used  that  book.  In  fact,  Mr.  Free 
man,  if  I  may  express  the  situation,  exactly  as  it  appears 
to  a  plain  business  man,  he  has  been  stealing  from  it. 
Is  that  so  ?  " 

Lawrence  had  always  felt  doubtful  of  the  keenness  of 
Ronald  Carnaquay's  moral  sense,  and  in  his  own  heart 
was  inclined  to  agree  with  the  stern  mill-owner's  inex 
orable  conclusion ;  but  he  knew  well  the  evils  of  hasty 
judgments,  and  he  cast  about  for  some  possible  expla 
nation  of  the  coincidence  between  sermon  and  essays. 
"There  is  a  great  difference  among  preachers,"  he  said, 
"in  respect  to  memory.  Now  I  have  a  poor  memory  for 
words  and  phrases,  and  rarely  attempt  to  quote  a  stanza 
of  poetry  ;  but  Dr.  Carnaquay,  as  I  can  testify,  has  an 
excellent  verbal  memory,  and  can  recite  easily  whole 
paragraphs  which  he  has  merely  glanced  through. 
Now  it  occurs  to  me  that  his  tenacious  memory  may 
explain  this  striking  resemblance.  He  undoubtedly 
must  have  read  the  essays,  but  it  is  quite  possible  —  I 
don't  say  probable  or  improbable,  but  certainly  possible 
—  that  he  quoted  the  passages,  without  knowing  that  he 
was  quoting  ;  they  may  have  come  into  his  head,  and  he 
may  have  thought  they  were  his  own." 

"  Yes,  that  is  possible,"  slowly  assented  Mr.  Marshall, 
in  his  bass  voice,  and  still  looking  fixedly  at  the  floor. 

Mrs.  Freeman  here  spoke :  "  There  is  another  pos 
sible  explanation.  He  may  have  used  those  passages 
in  his  sermon  as  quotations,  putting  quotation-marks 
around  them,  and  the  printer  may  have  carelessly 
omitted  the  quotation-marks." 

Lawrence  and  his  wife  looked  inquiringly  at  Mr. 
Marshall,  who,  after  a  moment's  silence,  said,  "  Have 


268  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

either  of  you  any  further  suggestions  about  the  mat 
ter?" 

Lawrence  thought  his  visitor's  reserve  of  manner  in 
dicated  some  hidden  plan  or  idea  which  he  was  waiting 
to  unfold  later.  He  knew  that  there  would  be  no  use 
in  urging  his  visitor  to  speak  his  mind,  until  Mr.  Marshall 
chose  to  do  so.  "  I  myself  hold  such  copying  of  words 
and  phrases,  by  a  public  speaker,"  said  he,  "  to  be  noth 
ing  less  than  stealing ;  only,  a  person  who  is  under 
suspicion  should  be  allowed  considerable  latitude  for 
unconscious  repetition.  In  England  such  use  of  other 
people's  words  and  phrases,  and  even  entire  sermons,  is 
not  looked  at  as  it  is  here  ;  in  fact,  English  papers 
openly  print  advertisements  of  sermons  offered  for  sale ; 
and  I  suppose  that  busy  clergymen,  or  indolent  ones,  or 
stupid  ones,  really  buy  them  and  use  them,  over  there, 
without  a  word  of  explanation." 

"  There  !  That  is  the  point,"  said  Mr.  Marshall.  "  I 
will  now  tell  you  that  I  have  talked  with  Dr.  Carnaquay 
about  the  matter,  showing  him  the  evidence  and  giving 
him  a  chance  to  explain.  I  thought  it  only  just  to  him, 
to  bring  the  matter  to  his  attention." 

Lawrence  and  his  wife  both  knew  how  reluctant  the 
genial  but  just  mill-owner  must  have  been,  to  thus  seek 
an  interview  with  his  minister,  on  such  an  errand.  But 
they  respected  him  more  than  ever,  as  he  sat  in  the 
chair  before  them,  and  stated  the  simple  truth,  in  a  calm 
and  regretful  manner.  "  What  in  the  world  did  he  offer 
as  an  excuse  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Freeman,  impulsively  ; 
for  the  charge  was  a  serious  one. 

"  He  said,  substantially,  the  two  things  which  you 
have  just  mentioned,  Mr.  Freeman.  He  did  not  seem 
greatly  disturbed,  but  declared  that  his  very  tenacious 
memory  must  have  played  him  this  bad  turn ;  and  then 
he  went  on  coolly  to  say  that  there  were  no  peculiar 


MORE   SPOTS,  AND   LARGER  269 

rights  of  property  in  ideas,  and  that  there  were  no  new 
ideas  under  the  sun,  and  that  the  English  custom  is  as 
you  have  just  stated.  I  must  confess  that  I  was  glad  I 
had  not  started  the  interview  with  a  direct  accusation  ; 
but,  instead,  as  if  merely  inquiring  about  a  matter  which 
he  could  probably  explain.  He  was  so  calm  and  self- 
possessed  that  I,  who  know  little  about  ministers'  ways, 
was  obliged  to  acquiesce  and  thank  him  and  withdraw. 
But  I  am  not  at  all  satisfied,  and  I  am  glad  to  have  this 
talk  with  you.  I  myself  can't  see  that  such  use  of  an 
other  man's  phraseology,  word  for  word,  is  any  better 
than  taking  and  using  his  hoe  or  his  horse  or  his  roll  of 
bank-notes." 

"  I  am  compelled  to  agree  with  you,"  said  Lawrence. 
"  I  have  heard  the  assertion  made,  by  some  of  my 
brother-preachers,  that  ideas  are  common  property  and 
can  be  appropriated,  wherever  found ;  but  while  that 
is  in  a  measure  true,  I  have  always  felt  that  the  copy 
ing  of  expressions  and  well-turned  phrases  and,  of 
course,  of  whole  paragraphs,  as  in  this  case  —  all  such 
appropriation  was  theft ;  at  least,  it  would  be  for  me,  if 
I  indulged  in  it." 

"  I  have  not  spoken  of  this  matter  with  anybody  ex 
cept  my  son,"  remarked  Mr.  Marshall.  "  I  think  that 
he  and  I  and  you  two  are  all  that  know  of  it.  Let  us 
keep  the  matter  to  ourselves.  Perhaps  this  exposure 
will  be  wisely  used  by  Dr.  Carnaquay.  I  wouldn't  like 
to  have  Olive  hear  about  the  matter.  I  hope  she  hasn't 
got  wind  of  it.  She  has  a  very  high  opinion  of  her 
minister,  but  she  has,  also,  an  unusually  intense  and 
even  rigid  sense  of  right  and  wrong.  I  fear  she  would 
refuse  to  ever  hear  him  preach  again,  if  she  learned  that 
he  coolly  appropriated  other  people's  essays  or  sermons." 

Lawrence  did  not  glance  at  his  wife,  nor  she  at  him, 
as  these  words  were  uttered ;  but  one  and  the  same 


2  yo  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

thought  was  in  both  their  minds.  Both  resisted  the 
impulse  to  broach  the  subject  of  Olive's  decidedly 
romantic  and  passionate  interest  in  Carnaquay ;  for 
both  were  uncertain  as  to  the  extent  of  Mr.  Marshall's 
knowledge  of  the  affair. 

Therefore  husband  and  wife  sat  in  silence,  but  their 
minds  seemed  to  touch  each  other,  as  if  by  telepathy. 
In  a  moment  Mr.  Marshall  continued  :  "  I  find  Dr.  Car 
naquay  a  strange  sort  of  man.  I  like  him,  but  I  never 
feel  quite  sure  of  him.  There,  for  example,  is  his  inim 
itable  way  of  telling  stories,  in  his  sermons.  You  have 
heard  him,  at  least  once,  I  believe,  Mrs.  Freeman  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have;  and  I  was  greatly  —  interested,"  re 
joined  Mrs.  Freeman. 

What  looked  like  a  smile  crept  over  Mr.  Marshall's 
face  ;  his  extensive  beard  rendered  difficult  any  absolute 
identification  of  his  facial  movements.  "  You  speak 
with  discretion,"  he  said.  "  But  I  must  admit  that  his 
stories  are  extremely  well  told,  only  they  often  don't 
bear  any  relation  to  the  text  or  to  the  subject  which  he 
announces  at  the  beginning.  And  quite  often,  I  hear 
him  tell  some  story,  as  if  it  had  happened  to  him,  the 
week  before,  and  I  can  recall  having  heard  the  story 
twenty-five  years  ago,  at  least.  I  haven't  quite  liked 
that  way  of  doing.  It  makes  the  story  more  effective, 
of  course,  but  it  does  so  at  the  cost  of  —  well,  of  entire, 
exact  truthfulness." 

"  I  noticed  the  same  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Freeman, 
"  when  I  heard  him  preach."  And  she  added,  with  a 
dignified  bending  of  her  erect  form,  yet  with  a  faint 
suggestion  of  satire :  "  The  plain  truth  is  often  so  un 
attractive,  Mr.  Marshall.  You  know  how  becomingly  a 
little  fringe  of  falsehood  can  set  it  off." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  assented  the  visitor,  senten- 
tiously,  but  evidently  catching  her  meaning.  "  If  only  he 


MORE   SPOTS,   AND    LARGER  271 

weren't  a  minister  of  the  gospel !     I  rather  expect  such 
'  fringes,'  as  you  call  them,  in  an  after-dinner  speaker's 
talk.     But  in  a  Christian  preacher,  and  in  church  — 
Mr.  Marshall  raised  his  hand  deprecatingly. 

"  Carnaquay  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  types  for 
study  that  I  know,"  said  Lawrence,  rousing  himself  as 
if  from  a  revery.  "  He  seems  to  me  peculiarly  a  prod 
uct  of  our  time.  He  is  created — and  others  like  him 
—  in  large  measure,  by  certain  kinds  of  churches :  they 
demand  a  certain  type  of  minister  or  preacher,  and  he 
is  the  'supply'  which  rises  to  meet  that  'demand.' 
I  have  often  thought,  in  reflecting  upon  this  phenome 
non  of  our  modern  pulpits,  of  that  text  in  the  Bible  —  in 
the  prophet  Jeremiah,  I  think  —  which  says,  "  The  proph 
ets  prophesy  falsely,  and  the  priests  bear  rule  by  their 
means  ;  and  my  people  love  to  have  it  so."  That  is  the 
explanation  of  the  existence  of  false  prophets  and  evil 
priests,  to-day  as  of  old.  It  is  the  people,  who  really 
hold  the  power ;  what  they  demand,  they  receive.  If 
they  demand,  in  ministers,  the  Christian  virtues,  then 
men  of  those  virtues  will  enter  the  ministry  ;  and  if  they 
demand  preachers  who  are  brilliant  story-tellers  and 
clever  entertainers,  then  such  men  will  find  their  way 
into  the  profession,  and  help  to  fix  the  low  standard  of 
the  pulpit  more  firmly  in  the  hearts  of  the  people." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me,"  asked  Mr.  Marshall, 
as  his  host  paused,  "  what  you  really  think  of  Dr.  Carna 
quay  ?  That  is,  what  you  think  of  him  as  a  minister  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  expressing  my  thought 
frankly,"  said  Lawrence,  "especially  to  a  man  like 
you,  Mr.  Marshall.  I  personally  like  Carnaquay,  more 
and  more,  as  I  get  at  him ;  of  course  I  must  say  plainly 
that  I  do  not  think  his  standards  of  his  profession, 
either  intellectually  or  morally,  are  what  they  ought  to 
be.  As  I  have  often  said  to  Mrs.  Freeman,  he  is  not 


272  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

immoral  so  much  as  unmoral ;  he  does  not  quite  trans 
gress  the  many  minor  moralities,  consciously,  but  he 
simply  is  blind  and  deaf  to  the  finer  shades  of  ministe 
rial  ethics.  He  is,  primarily,  a  shrewd  business  man, 
with  a  sort  of  ^olian  attachment  of  clever  talk  ;  •  he  is, 
from  what  I  can  gather,  a  '  raconteur ' ;  he  is  amusing, 
as  some  favorite  '  end-man,'  in  a  negro  minstrel-show, 
is  amusing.  He  has  ability  in  two  directions,  each  of 
which  would  be  remunerative :  one  is  his  business  abil 
ity,  and  the  other  is  his  picturesque  story-telling  faculty. 
Now  his  business  ability  does  not  avail  very  much  in  the 
ministry,  because  there  are  good  business  men  on  the 
church  committees  ;  but,  as  a  clever  story-teller  and  a  re 
citer  of  memorized  poems  and  famous  eloquent  passages, 
he  is  without  sharp  competition,  and  partly  so  because 
the  majority  of  preachers  have  consciences  and  will  not 
prostitute  their  talents  and  degrade  their  sacred  office, 
by  unblushingly  yielding  to  the  demand  of  the  public 
for  amusement.  If  Carnaquay  went  into  theatre  life,  or 
the  vaudeville  world,  he  would  be  successful,  but  not  as 
strikingly  successful  —  Heaven  forgive  the  word  —  as 
now  he  is  in  a  pulpit ;  because  there  are  many  variety 
performers,  either  with  or  without  burnt  cork,  who  can 
equal  him  in  his  vivid  powers  of  narration  and  his  facil 
ity  for  provoking  laughter.  Whereas,  among  clergymen, 
there  are  as  yet  only  a  few  who  descend  to  this  level 
of  comedy  and  farce ;  although,  if  the  demand  contin 
ues,  I  dare  not  say  how  great  the  supply  may  be." 

Lawrence,  in  his  own  heart,  felt  regret  and  even  a 
strong  antagonism,  for  such  a  degradation  of  the  pulpit ; 
but  he  had  meditated  upon  it  so  much,  and  had  himself 
slipped  so  utterly  out  of  the  arena  of  pulpit  competition, 
as  it  exists  in  most  communities,  that  he  had  lost  all 
bitterness  of  feeling,  and  now  spoke  quietly  and  even 
philosophically. 


MORE   SPOTS,   AND   LARGER  273 

"  Of  course  we  mustn't  deny  people  proper  amuse 
ments,"  interpolated  Mr.  Marshall;  "only  you  would 
say,  I  suppose,  that  the  church  is  not  for  that  purpose 
—  at  least  not  solely  for  that." 

"  Precisely !  "  assented  Lawrence.  "  I  believe  in 
laughter  and  in  the  good  it  can  do  to  human  bodies  and 
minds.  But  the  church,  historically  and  essentially, 
stands  for  the  religious  and  moral  instruction  and  stimu 
lation  of  human  minds  and  hearts  ;  it  should  stand  for 
that,  more  than  it  has  in  the  past.  What  I  object  to  is 
that  too  often,  men  and  women,  who  need  moral  ree'n- 
forcement  and  spiritual  quickening,  go  to  church,  to  the 
place  which  is  supposed  to  meet  those  needs,  and  are 
simply  amused;  and  they  are  thus  injuriously  led  to  be 
lieve  that  they  have  been  benefited,  morally  and  spirit 
ually.  Perhaps  they  have  been,  in  a  gentle  stimulating 
way,  but  their  conduct  or  their  faith  will  not  be  substan 
tially  affected  by  the  exercise  of  their  risibilities." 

Lawrence  paused  a  moment  or  two,  as  if  deliberating, 
and  then  continued  :  "  I  mustn't  bore  you,  Mr.  Marshall, 
with  my  reflections,  but  I  have  often  been  struck  by  the 
resemblance  between  the  pulpit  vaudeville,  of  certain 
kinds  of  churches,  and  patent  medicines.  I  have  ob 
served  that  if  a  person  will  only  concoct  some  toothsome 
liquid  or  paste,  and  then  urge  its  merits  as  a  medicine, 
he  can  find  a  ready  market  for  it.  People  like  sweets, 
but  they  do  not  quite  wish  to  spend  money  for  those 
sweets,  under  that  name ;  so,  if  the  clever  person  will 
only  invent  a  chewing-gum,  or  a  cream  tablet,  or  a 
sparkling  drink,  and  then  put  forth  strong  claims  for  its 
medicinal  efficacy,  he  will  find  a  far  larger  market  for 
such  a  compound  than  he  could  find  for  sugar  or  cin 
namon  or  wintergreen  alone.  People  like  to  indulge 
themselves,  but  they  wish  to  have  the  excuse  of  seeming 
to  be  ameliorating  their  aches  and  pains." 


274  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

"  You  have  omitted  one  very  widely  sold  class  of  so- 
called  medicines,"  suggested  Mr.  Marshall.  "  I  have 
an  idea  that  the  alcoholic  base  of  most  '  bitters  '  and 
'  tonics  '  is  the  explanation  of  their  wide  sale.  People 
actually  become  confirmed  drunkards,  through  continued 
indulgence  in  such  deadly  stuff." 

"  Yes,  I  know  from  observation  that  you  are  correct," 
resumed  Lawrence.  "  But  the  parallel  which  I  started 
to  draw  is  this.  People  like  to  be  amused,  and  they 
like  it  most  when  it  passes  under  some  higher  name ;  as 
they  like  sweets  and  the  taste  of  whiskey,  especially 
when  disguised  as  medicine,  so  they  enjoy  fun  and 
laughter,  especially  when  called  '  sermons '  or  '  lec 
tures.'  " 

"  And  this  principle,  as  applied  to  our  friend  Carna- 
quay,  becomes  simply  the  explanation  of  his  —  I  will 
not  say  'success,'  but  his  popularity.  His  genial  good 
nature,  however,  is  also  a  factor,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  and  I  credit  him,  after  observing  him  rather 
closely,"  added  Mr.  Marshall,  "I  credit  him  with  con 
siderable  kindness  of  heart  and  generosity.  What  say 
you  to  that,  Mr.  Freeman  ?  " 

"  I  quite  agree,"  responded  Lawrence,  warmly.  "  The 
man's  heart  is  all  right ;  as  a  man  of  the  world  he  would 
get  on  perfectly  well,  and  would  amass  wealth ;  indeed, 
he  has  taken  pretty  long  steps  in  that  direction  already. 
Furthermore,  such  an  error  as  this  of  plagiarism,  or,  to 
put  it  plainly,  literary  theft,  a  wrong-doing  which  arises 
from  his  dull  moral  nature  —  this  would  not  come  within 
his  range  of  experience  as  a  business  man ;  and  as  for 
the  moral  questions  which  do  arise  in  mercantile  life,  I 
think  I  have  heard  you  yourself  say,  Mr.  Marshall,  that 
custom  and  even  policy  unite  to  keep  a  man  straight, 
even  if  personally  he  were  not  inclined  that  way." 

The  three  friends  found  themselves  in  close  sympathy, 


MORE   SPOTS,   AND    LARGER  275 

concerning  the  minister  of  Emmanuel  Church,  the  more 
closely  they  analyzed  him.  And  they  agreed  in  looking 
upon  him  somewhat  as  a  "  misfit,"  in  the  social  mechan 
ism  ;  superficially  successful  as  he  was,  but  essentially 
and  hopelessly  a  failure,  he  was  made  possible,  he  was 
created  professionally,  in  large  measure,  by  the  wish 
and  will  of  certain  classes  of  the  public.  As  Lawrence 
again  quoted,  "  The  people  would  have  it  so." 

As  Mr.  Marshall  went  on,  chatting  more  easily  and 
unrestrainedly  than  when  he  came  in,  several  matters  of 
interest  transpired,  regarding  Carnaquay.  One  was  that 
he  was  making  very  few  calls  in  these  days.  His  zeal  in 
that  direction  seemed  largely  to  have  evaporated.  Test 
ing  this  fact  by  the  one  standard,  by  which  all  his  pro 
fessional  life  was  to  be  tested,  it  was  evident  that  he  had 
decided  that  such  a  use  of  his  time  was  not  needed,  in 
order  to  insure  his  success,  —  in  order  to  hold  his  large 
congregation,  and  to  keep  the  church  exchequer  full. 
Any  purpose  of  personal  ministry,  in  knowing  intimately 
his  people,  was  not  to  be  attributed  to  him.  There  was 
even  one  case,  which  Mr.  Marshall  now  narrated,  which 
led  to  a  difference  of  opinion  among  the  three  friends. 

It  was  this.  A  family,  made  up  of  a  man,  his  wife, 
and  two  children,  had  given  up  all  connection  with  the 
church ;  they  had  ceased  to  rent  a  pew,  and  they  would 
not  subscribe  to  any  of  the  philanthropic  causes,  in  which 
Emmanuel  Church  was  interested.  The  man  was  a 
machinist,  and  received  good  wages ;  the  family  lived 
comfortably,  and  spent  money  freely  for  luxuries  and 
amusements.  When  urged  by  the  treasurer  to  keep 
up  his  pew-rent,  the  man  became  angry,  said  he  had  no 
use  for  the  church,  and  remarked  that  he  wanted  his 
money  for  other  things.  Whether  wisely  or  unwisely, 
the  treasurer  mentioned  this  conversation  to  Carnaquay  ; 
and,  by  a  strange  coincidence,  the  machinist's  child  fell 


276  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

ill  and  died,  within  a  month  after  Carnaquay  had  learned 
about  his  action  and  his  remarks.  Naturally,  and  with 
out  any  misgivings,  they  sent  to  the  minister  of  Emman 
uel  Church,  asking  him  to  conduct  the  burial  services. 

Mr.  Marshall  was  carefully  narrating  this  episode, 
and,  at  this  point,  he  paused  and  asked  Lawrence, 
abruptly,  "What  would  you  have  done,  Mr.  Freeman, 
if  you  had  been  in  Dr.  Carnaquay's  place  ?  Would  you 
have  conducted  the  burial  service  ?  " 

Lawrence  replied  at  once.  "  It  is  the  sort  of  situa 
tion  which  faces  ministers  frequently.  In  such  cases 
I  have  always  responded  with  an  affirmative.  I  will  not 
now  stop  to  explain  and  analyze  motives,  but  suffice  it 
to  say  that  without  doubt  I  would  have  conducted  the 
service.  What  did  Carnaquay  do  ?  I  am  anxious  to 
know." 

"  I  can  guess,"  interjected  Mrs.  Freeman,  hastily. 

Mr.  Marshall  nodded  toward  her  and  said,  "You 
would  guess  correctly.  He  did  not  go.  He  sent  a 
brief  note,  in  which  he  said  that  he  was  busy  with  the 
duties  of  the  parish,  which  had  a  right  to  his  time  and 
effort,  since  it  paid  him  for  them ;  too  busy  to  feel  justi 
fied  in  using  his  time  and  strength  for  work  outside  the 
parish ;  and  he  hoped  they  would  send  for  the  clergy 
man,  whoever  he  might  be,  whom  they  considered  their 
pastor,  and  whom  they  helped  to  maintain  in  the  com 
munity.  Of  course  there  was  no  other  clergyman,  as 
nearly  related  to  them  as  was  Dr.  Carnaquay ;  but  they 
were  obliged  to  send  for  a  retired  minister  who  lived 
next  door,  and  the  funeral  service  was  held." 

Mr.  Marshall  looked  at  his  two  listeners  inquiringly, 
but  neither  of  them  replied.  Presently,  Mrs.  Freeman, 
always  frank  and  sincere,  threw  back  her  head  with  a 
characteristic  gesture,  and  said :  "  Although  I  think  he 
ought  to  have  gone,  I  must  admit  that  I  can  see  his  side 


MORE   SPOTS,  AND   LARGER  277 

of  the  matter.  Many  of  the  duties,  which  ministers  are 
freely  called  upon  to  perform,  are  in  this  same  class. 
They  are  duties  which  are  expected  and  even  demanded 
by  people  who  will  not  lift  a  finger  nor  contribute  one 
penny  to  make  possible  in  the  community,  that  service 
and  ministration  which  they,  on  occasion,  so  confidently 
and  insistently  claim.  Mr.  Carnaquay  simply  carried 
out  logically  his  theory  and  practice  of  the  clerical  life 
as  a  commercialism.  Strictly  speaking,  judging  a  min 
ister  by  the  same  standards  that  are  used  by  most  people 
—  not  all  —  in  judging  his  so-called  'success,'  —  namely 
'value  received,"  exchange  of  values,' — I  think  he  would 
be  justified  in  rendering  service  to  only  those  who  paid 
him  for  it ;  that  is,  those  who  help  support  the  church 
which  maintains  him.  Of  course  I  mean  to  except 
those  who  cannot  afford  to  contribute.  In  this  case, 
however,  I  understood  you  that  the  man  could  afford  to 
do  his  share  in  the  maintenance  of  the  church." 

Lawrence  had  folded  his  arms,  and  sat  with  head 
bowed  forward,  and  with  a  faint  suggestion  of  a  smile 
playing  about  his  mouth.  He  was  letting  his  wife 
"  have  her  say,"  as  they  often  facetiously  expressed 
it  in  the  family.  He  did  not  quite  agree  with  her 
position  here  taken,  yet  he  was  rather  glad  to  have 
her  express  her  views  to  their  trusted  friend.  At  this 
point  he  thought  it  best  to  change  the  subject.  "  I  have 
been  told,"  he  remarked,  looking  up,  "that  Carnaquay's 
style  of  preaching  has  changed  somewhat  of  late.  Is 
that  so,  Mr.  Marshall?  Have  you  noticed  it?  " 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  would  have  noticed  it  myself," 
said  the  mill-owner,  frankly.  "  But  Ned  and  Olive  have 
called  my  attention  to  it.  He  certainly  does  not  stride 
about  the  platform  so  much  and  gesture  so  wildly ;  and 
there  really  seems  to  be  more  —  more,  well,  what  I 
would  call  '  substance'  in  his  discourses." 


278  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

"Your  daughter,  Olive,  told  me  the  other  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Freeman,  "that  he  quotes  Browning  and  Carlyle 
and  Emerson  and  such  men,  much  more  than  formerly." 

"  Yes  —  yes,"  assented  Mr.  Marshall,  doubtfully  ;  add 
ing,  with  an  indulgent  smile  as  he  thought  of  his  dearly 
loved  daughter,  "  if  Olive  says  so,  why,  he  does.  But 
I  hadn't  noticed  that  in  the  sermons  ;  I'm  not  very  famil 
iar  with  those  writers.  I  have  a  dim  recollection  that 
he  gave  a  reading  from  Browning  at  Miss  Metcalf's  a 
few  weeks  ago.  Did  you  know  of  that  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  did,"  responded  Mrs.  Freeman,  vivaciously. 
"  Lawrence  and  I  were  invited  but  did  not  go.  Miss 
Metcalf's  literary  and  aesthetic  entertainments  have 
always  interested  me.  She  has  several  of  them  every 
year,  you  know.  Not  that  she  knows  or  cares  any 
thing  about  poetry  or  art  or  sociology,  or  any  of  those 
things ;  but  she  dearly  loves  to  manage.  And  she 
picks  up  any  literary  or  aesthetic  '  light,'  who  happens 
to  be  in  the  public  eye,  and  gathers  a  company  under 
her  roof  to  listen.  She  herself  never  hears  any  of  the 
instructive  talks  or  readings,  for  she  is  as  busy  as  a  bee, 
all  the  time,  attending  to  the  arrangements.  She  makes 
a  picturesque  and  effective  hostess,  I  must  admit ;  but 
her  real  interest  is  in  the  details  of  food,  clothing,  chairs, 
and  the  like.  Miss  Metcalf  is  a  most  pragmatic  woman." 

"  She  is,  indeed,  a  capable  person,"  said  Mr.  Marshall. 
"  I  have  noticed  that,  although  she  always  disclaims  in 
terest  in  woman's  rights  and  similar  movements,  she  is  a 
person  eminently  fitted  for  the  exercise  of  such  privi 
leges,  and  finds  her  greatest  joy  in  directing  men  and 
women,  according  to  her  wishes.  I  have  heard  a  num 
ber  of  people  say  that  she  would  make  a  good  minister's 
wife." 

This  was  said  with  a  significant  smile,  and  Lawrence 
laughed  as  he  inquired,  "  What  minister  ?  " 


279 

Then  they  all  laughed,  but  Freeman  and  his  wife  were 
a  trifle  uneasy  over  this  turn  in  the  conversation.  The 
subject  of  Carnaquay's  marriage  intentions  was  a  delicate 
one  to  discuss  with  the  father  of  Olive  Marshall.  Mrs. 
Freeman,  with  a  woman's  quickness  of  social  resource, 
suggested  in  an  indifferent  way :  "  Mark  my  words,  he 
is  not  half  so  much  interested  in  Miss  Metcalf  as  he  is 
in  Mrs.  Adeline  Guthrie.  I  am  told  that  the  charming 
widow  was  not  present  at  the  Browning  reading,  although 
her  interest  in  that  poet  is  very  well  known." 

"Indeed!"  interjected  Lawrence,  "I  had  not  heard 
that." 

"  My  dear,  you  have  many  things  still  to  learn,"  re 
marked  his  wife,  with  impressive  condescension. 

"  But  her  non-attendance  does  not  signify,"  continued 
Mr.  Freeman.  "There  might  have  been  several  good 
reasons  for  it." 

"  Yes ;  and  two  such  reasons  I  can  think  of  at  once. 
She  might  not  have  wished  to  hear  him  read,  in  public, 
poems  which  she  and  he  together  had  read  in  private. 
She  might  have  been  a  little  sensitive  about  them.  And 
again,  the  simple  reason  may  have  been  —  and  from 
what  I  have  heard  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  the  real 
reason  —  she  may  not  have  been  invited." 

"  Oh,  I  think  you  are  a  little  severe  on  our  "  Lady  of 
the  Snowy  Locks,"  ventured  Lawrence,  though  not 
very  confidently. 

"  Not  at  all.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  she  is  a 
very  determined  and  even  vindictive  woman,  and  watch 
ful  and  suspicious  also.  I  am  tolerably  sure  that  her 
heart  has  been  not  a  little  stirred  by  the  reverend  gen 
tleman's  attentions  and  compliments;  and  she  must 
also  know  that  he  and  Mrs.  Guthrie  are  a  great  deal 
together.  So  I  put  two  and  two  together  and  get  my 
conclusion." 


280  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

"M — m!  M — m!"  was  the  mill-owner's  only  com 
ment,  as  he  evidently  balanced  the  probabilities,  behind 
his  bushy  black  beard. 

"  More  than  that,"  continued  Mrs.  Freeman,  a  little 
nervously,  eager  to  urge  her  point  as  strongly  as  she 
could,  "  I  have  not  seen  Adeline  as  often,  lately,  as  I 
did  formerly.  She  does  not  come  here  so  much,  and 
when  she  does  come,  I  cannot  interest  her  much  in  the 
classes  and  clubs  of  our  North  Side — matters  which  did 
greatly  interest  her  a  few  months  ago.  And  yet  she 
does  not  seem  depressed,  but,  on  the  contrary,  notice 
ably  happy ;  and,  what  is  most  significant,  I  have 
seen  her  distinctly  curb  her  joyous  expression,  as  if  real 
izing —  bright  little  woman  that  she  is — that  such  buoy 
ancy  of  manner  and  speech  was  revealing  a  condition 
of  her  heart  which  she  did  not  wish  known." 

After  a  little,  Lawrence  said  more  seriously,  "  I 
wonder  if  she  knows  this  man,  or  is  she  led  captive,  as 
most  women  —  begging  your  ladyship's  pardon"  (with 
a  low  bow  to  Mrs.  Freeman),  —  "  as  most  women  are,  by 
their  blind  emotions,  by  their  great  need  of  love  ? " 

Mrs.  Freeman  did  not  linger  over  her  husband's  fun, 
but  answered  him  slowly  and  emphatically.  "  Adeline 
Guthrie  knows  Ronald  Carnaquay  better,  more  critically, 
than  does  any  one  of  us.  She  is  a  very  acute  woman. 
She  sees  the  faults  in  him,  as  plainly  as  we  do.  And  I 
believe  she  also  sees  the  undeveloped  good  that  is  under 
neath  his  showy  and  conceited  exterior  manners.  She 
is  a  clever  and  noble  woman,  and  she  can  make  a  man  of 
him,  if  she  has  a  fair  chance.  She  is  no  egotist,  as  Miss 
Metcalf  is,  and  very  likely  would  find  her  own  best  life 
in  developing  his  life.  Clever  wives  are  of  two  kinds. 
One  kind  absorbs  a  husband,  and  the  other  develops 
him.  At  any  rate,  I  hope  she  will  get  affection.  She 
deserves  more  of  it  and  on  more  even  terms,  than  she 


MORE   SPOTS,   AND   LARGER  281 

ever  could  have  had  from  that  dried-up  old  theologian, 
Dr.  Guthrie.  He  was  old  enough  to  be  —  not  merely  her 
father,  but  her  grandfather." 

"  You  are  marking  out  quite  a  broad  field  of  missionary 
effort  for  Mrs.  Guthrie,"  said  Lawrence,  good-naturedly, 
"  and  I  think  she  might  enjoy  the  work,  provided 
that  she  takes  it  up  ;  for  she  is  a  woman  of  rare  penetra 
tion  and  stimulative  power."  Then  he  added,  with  a 
twinkle  of  the  eye,  "  If  she  does  effect  a  reform  in  the 
man,  I  shall  think  it  a  most  praiseworthy  success,  and 
shall  consider  it  a  plain  case  of  '  widow's  might.'  " 

"  There,  there  !  "  admonished  his  wife.  "  Puns  are 
ruled  out.  I  really  mean  all  that  I  say,  and  more.  I 
am  no  Deborah  to  prophesy,  but  I  think  Time  will  justify 
my  guesses.  If  those  two  read  Browning  very  much, 
they  must  have  noted  the  '  Song  from  James  Lee,' 
where  it  says  :  — 

" '  If  you  loved  only  what  were  worth  your  love, 
Love  were  clear  gain,  and  wholly  well  for  you. 
Make  the  low  nature  better  by  your  throes  ! 
Give  earth  yourself,  go  up  for  gain  above  ! ' " 

Lawrence  made  a  faint  show  of  repressing  her. 
"  Don't,  my  dear  !  Don't,  I  beg  you  !  Don't  confess 
so  publicly  your  missionary  purpose  in  marrying  me ! 
Mr.  Marshall  can  now  understand,  as  never  before,  my 
rare  good  fortune." 

The  party  was  becoming  infected  with  the  general 
spirit  of  fun-making,  so  that  even  Mr.  Marshall,  rising 
to  go,  remarked  jocosely  :  "  Gossip  !  Gossip  !  Most  of 
our  talk  this  morning.  I  must  go  away  and  get  over 
its  evil  influence  as  soon  as  possible."  And  he  bade 
them  both  a  hearty  and  even  affectionate  good-by,  and 
went  out. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

OLD  HEARTS  AND  YOUNG  LOVE 

"  The  healing  of  the  world  is  in  its  nameless  saints." 

—  ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING. 

IT  was  quite  true,  as  Uncle  Ben  had  told  Mr.  Free 
man,  that  Mis'  Snow  was  expecting  him,  Uncle  Ben, 
that  morning.  Not  that  the  engagement  was  of  a  very 
serious  nature  —  it  was  merely  to  come  over  and  "  visit," 
and  perhaps  play  the  violin.  But  the  old  man's  honest 
nature  admitted  no  shades  and  grades  in  obligations; 
he  had  no  sense  of  proportion.  Either  he  "ought"  or 
he  "ought  not,"  no  matter  what  the  deed  might  be, 
great  or  small ;  the  sense  of  duty  which  constrained  him 
to  pick  up  and  wipe  and  straighten  a  bent  pin,  when  his 
purblind  old  eyes  discerned  one  on  the  sidewalk,  was  just 
as  great  and  inexorable  as  was  his  feeling  of  duty  about 
performing  his  regular  morning  task  of  opening  and 
sweeping  out  the  hardware  store  near  his  home.  In  the 
faithful  performance  of  this  task  he  never  failed.  Nor 
did  he  fail  to  pick  up  and  save  the  bent,  tarnished  pin 
—  not  that  he  used  all  the  pins  thus  rescued,  but  he 
practised  this  economy  from  principle.  Morality  and 
not  utility  was  the  strong  motive  of  his  faithful  old 
heart. 

So  he  hurried  away,  in  his  feeble,  shuffling  fashion, 
gaze  lowered,  oblivious  of  the  city's  life,  and  presented 
himself  at  "  Mis'  "  Snow's  house.  A  large  and  very 
comfortable  house  it  was,  too,  surrounded  by  a  garden, 

282 


OLD   HEARTS   AND   YOUNG    LOVE  283 

and  this  by  a  high  stone  wall.  It  had  been  built  by 
Mr.  Snow,  thirty  years  before.  He  was,  in  his  youth,  a 
carpenter,  and  later  in  life,  by  dint  of  untiring  energy,  a 
prosperous  contractor  and  builder.  He  had  ruled  every 
body  with  an  iron  hand.  His  wife,  after  the  death  of 
her  masterful  liege,  had  developed  an  average  amount 
of  self-reliance  and  individuality ;  but  this  had  lain 
dormant  and  unsuspected  in  her  heart,  through  forty 
years  of  married  life,  because  there  was  no  room  for  it 
in  the  companionship  of  her  assertive  husband. 

She  was  a  worn,  weary  old  woman,  was  Mrs.  Snow, 
and  lonely;  glad  to  have  "Benjamin,"  as  she  always 
called  Uncle  Ben,  come  over  and  "  visit  "  with  her.  He 
was  her  one  link  with  her  past.  With  him  she  could  go 
over  the  old  life,  and  with  him  debate  her  little  econo 
mies.  Her  face  was  heavily  seamed,  and  her  hands 
knotted  and  ridged,  with  those  first  ten  years  of  house 
keeping,  when  her  saving  of  pennies  was  an  important 
factor  in  the  growth  of  the  family  exchequer.  Those 
economies  of  the  former  days  she  could  not  lay  aside, 
even  now  when  she  was  not  expending  her  income. 
She  still  knitted  heavy  woollen  socks,  and  gave  them 
away  to  people  —  who  grumbled  at  the  smalmess  of 
the  gift.  She  still  rolled  and  twisted  paper  lamp-lights, 
insisting  that  her  maids  should  use  them ;  and  they 
complied,  but  used  a  half  card  of  matches,  in  retaliation, 
when  her  bent  old  back  was  turned.  She  went  down 
into  the  kitchen  frequently,  — indeed  she  felt  more  "  at 
home  "  there  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  huge  mansion, 
—  scolded  the  cook  for  taking  off  such  large  parings 
from  potatoes  and  apples,  then  returned  to  her  sitting 
room,  perhaps  to  write  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars, 
in  favor  of  some  charity  which  had  managed  to  reach 
her  eye  or  ear  and  heart. 

Uncle  Ben  entered  the  house,  as  always,  at  the  side 


284  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

door,  and  made  his  way  into  the  sitting  room,  where  Mrs. 
Snow  spent  much  of  her  time.  The  lofty  ceiling  gave 
extensive  wall  space,  but  this  space  was  sparsely  occu 
pied  by  pictures.  There  was  one  old  painting  of  the 
departed  master  of  the  house;  and  if  he  could  be  judged 
by  his  determined  jaw  and  the  puffy  fulness  of  his  red 
face,  he  must  have  closed  with  this  world,  in  a  fit  of 
apoplexy,  induced  by  a  severe  access  of  rage.  Then 
there  were  oil-paintings  of  a  cow,  a  dog,  and  a  horse ; 
also  one  of  the  old  homestead  where  Mr.  Snow  was 
born  —  all  executed  by  an  "  artist  who  had  studied  in 
Paris."  Besides  these  a  few  cheap  prints,  cut  from 
illustrated  papers,  added  their  aesthetic  influence  to  the 
room.  A  book-case  full  of  —  I  will  not  say  "books," 
but  —  beautiful  bindings  was  carefully  closed  and  locked, 
and  stood  strongly  protected  by  the  piano,  itself  closed 
and  piled  high  with  work-baskets  and  newspapers  and 
heaps  of  neatly  arranged  linen. 

"  How  de  do  ? "  said  Uncle  Ben,  cheerfully,  as  he 
entered,  with  fiddle  under  arm. 

"  Well,  now  !  is  that  you  ?  "  responded  the  old  lady, 
hardly  looking  up.  She  was  busy  with  some  objects  in 
her  hand,  and  now  arose  and  went  across  the  room. 
"  These  new  teeth  of  mine  don't  fit  good,  and  I  wish 
you'd  take  'em  down  and  have  'em  filed  off  a  little  on 
the  under  side.  There,  I'll  do  'em  up  in  a  paper." 
And  the  package  was  neatly  prepared  and  was  trans 
ferred,  without  comment,  to  Uncle  Ben's  pocket. 

"  I  hain't  seen  ye  for  a  long  spell,  Benjamin,"  she 
said,  seating  herself  and  taking  up  an  old  dress  which 
she  was  ripping.  "Where  ye  ben?"  Her  gaunt  face 
was  bent  over  her  work,  and  her  scant  locks  —  once  a 
bright  yellow,  but  now,  in  blending  with  white,  become 
a  yellowish  green  —  but  imperfectly  concealed  the  white 
scalp  beneath. 


OLD   HEARTS  AND  YOUNG  LOVE  285 

With  such  a  companionship  as  theirs  — weather-beaten 
and  sun-dried,  through  nearly  half  a  century  —  there  was 
little  need  of  the  art  of  conversation.  To  be  together 
was  a  calm,  restful  experience  for  both.  Remarks 
dropped,  like  apples  from  a  tree,  when  they  were  ripe ; 
there  was  no  shaking  of  the  tree.  Sometimes  questions 
remained  unanswered,  or  were  answered  by  the  ques 
tioner.  Occasionally  a  difference  of  opinion  arose,  and 
some  point  was  mildly  debated,  with  impartial,  philo 
sophic  frankness  on  both  sides.  "  How's  the  weather, 
Benjamin  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Snow,  with  indifference. 

"  dear's  a  whistle,"  responded  Uncle  Ben,  with  con 
ciseness,  unwrapping  his  violin. 

"  There's  a  storm  a-getherin',  I  guess,"  said  Mrs. 
Snow.  "  The  wind  whiffled  'round  this  morning  into 
the  east." 

"  Dunno  but  you're  'bout  right,"  conceded  the  old 
man,  testing  the  violin  strings.  "  These  ere  strings  hez 
fell  a  leetle;  they  allus  do  when  it's  a  mite  damp.  Hev 
yer  looked  at  the  almanick  ? " 

This  consultation  of  the  "  Farmers'  Almanac,"  was  a 
never  failing  source  of  satisfaction  to  the  old  couple. 
Both  of  them  could  remember  turning  its  pages,  as 
far  back  as  they  could  remember  anything ;  the  very 
figures  of  the  goat  and  waterman  and  bull  and  inter 
twined  fishes,  at  the  tops  of  the  pages,  seemed  to  gently 
rustle  the  leaves  of  memory  in  their  hearts.  So  that 
they  always  consulted  its  occult  prophecies  with  a  trust 
fulness  which  was  justified,  whatever  the  Sibylline  order 
in  which  "  rain  "  and  "  clear,"  "  stormy  "  and  "  fair  "  ar 
ranged  themselves,  up  and  down  the  stairway  of  the 
month. 

As  usual,  when  Mrs.  Snow  had  unearthed  the  yellow 
pamphlet  from  her  work-basket,  the  definite  prophecy 
for  the  morrow  was  not  made  clear.  No  more  was  the 


286  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

oracle  at  Dodona  clear  in  statement ;  yet  there  was  no 
lack  of  inquirers.  So  with  Uncle  Ben  and  Mrs.  Snow ; 
they  found  that  the  word  "changeable"  was  the  word 
nearest  that  day  and  date ;  but  it  was  two  days  ahead ; 
and  four  days  behind  them  began,  "  Look  for  clearing 
weather,"  and  extended  through  two  days.  Thus 
they  were  in  doubt  —  agreeable,  debatable,  insoluble 
doubt  —  as  to  how  far  forward  the  "clearing  weather" 
ruled,  and  how  far  back  the  "changeable"  dictum 
extended. 

So  the  conversation  and  comfortable  conjecture  mean 
dered  pleasantly  on,  like  a  stream  through  level  lands, 
during  an  hour.  Uncle  Ben  picked  away  absently  at 
his  violin,  and  Mrs.  Snow  recalled  various  patches  of 
marvellous  weather  from  her  past,  and  recounted,  for 
the  fortieth  time  at  least,  her  perilous  journey,  during 
a  violent  shower,  across  Five  Mile  Pond,  with  her  hus 
band  and  a  cow  and  some  hens  in  the  rowboat. 

To  all  such  recitals  Uncle  Ben  gave  a  non-resisting 
ear.  If  the  old  lady  had  stopped,  at  any  point,  he  could 
have  continued  the  story,  in  his  slower,  more  matter-of- 
fact  fashion.  Occasionally  he  grew  a  trifle  restless  under 
her  reminiscences,  and  never  hesitated  to  let  his  restless 
ness  be  known.  "  Why,  Elviry,"  he  said  calmly,  at  such 
times,  "you  tole  me  thet  yisterday,"  or,  "  Yis,  I  know,  I 
know'd  thet  afore."  And  the  old  dame  with  the  yellow- 
green  hair  took  the  checkmate  without  remonstrance ; 
indeed,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  aged  people,  she  had 
been  talking  more  to  herself  than  to  her  listener,  had 
been  merely  living  over  again  the  beloved  past,  merely 
touching  once  and  again,  for  her  own  pleasure,  the 
slackened  cords  of  old  experiences,  sighing,  as  she  did 
it,  at  the  feeble  response  they  gave. 

From  the  weather  and  kindred  topics  they  passed  to 
aches  and  ailments.  "  And  haow  is  yer  rheumatiz, 


OLD    HEARTS   AND   YOUNG   LOVE  287 

Elviry  ? "  asked  the  old  man.  "  Mine's  ben  better 
lately." 

"  Oh,  about  the  same,"  replied  the  widow,  mournfully. 
"I've  been  a-tryin'  a  new  medicine;  but  it  don't  do  me 
no  good.  Thank  the  Lord  for  his  marcies,  though,  I 
ain't  so  bad  as  some." 

She  brightened  up,  with  this  burst  of  self-exhortation, 
and  then  relapsed  as  she  added :  "  I  was  disapp'inted,  I 
must  say,  in  that  medicine.  It  was  spoke  so  high  of,  in 
the  paper.  Why,  do  you  know,  Benjamin  "  (here  the 
old  lady  paused  in  her  work  and  spoke  with  animation), 
"  there  was  a  man  in  the  paper  that  couldn't  step  one 
step,  nor  lift  his  arm  above  his  head,  and  now  he  can 
jump  and  swing  an  axe  with  the  best  of  'em." 

Uncle  Ben  never  exhibited  any  outward  traces  of 
excitement.  "  Hm — m  —  thet's  good,"  he  soliloquized; 
"  I'm  glad  to  hear  thet.  An'  where  did  you  say  this 
man  was,  Elviry  ?  " 

Mrs.  Snow  had  literally  said  that  he  was  in  the  news 
paper,  which  was  about  the  truth  of  the  matter,  to  her 
mind ;  but  now  she  amended  her  statement,  languidly, 
"  I  b'lieve  he  lives  out  in  Colorado  or  Dakota  or  one 
of  them  places." 

"  Oh  —  oh  —  is  thet  so  ?  Thet's  too  fur  ter  dew  much 
abaout,  ain't  it,"  responded  Uncle  Ben,  regretfully. 

"  Why,  what  did  you  think  about  doin'  ?  " 

"  Waal,  I  dunno,  'xactly ;  I  kinder  bed  an  idee  —  an 
idee  —  "  Here  the  old  man's  vague  idea  "  petered  out," 
and  he  sank  into  silence. 

"  Did  you  think  of  goin'  to  see  him,  Benjamin  ? " 
inquired  Mrs.  Snow,  "  to  ask  him  about  it  ?  'Cause  if 
you  did,  there  ain't  no  use.  Them  people  that  is  cured 
in  the  papers,  always  live  a  long  way  off.  P'r'aps  now," 
she  added,  with  a  touch  of  native  penetration  and  humor, 
which  was  lost  on  the  old  man,  "  if  we  took  a  Colorado 


288  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

or  Dakota  paper,  we  might  see  some  cases  reported  here 
in  the  east,  some  thet  we  could  look  up  easy.  Anyhow, 
that  man  took  only  five  bottles ;  most  generally  folks 
hev  ter  take  ten  or  twenty.  I'm  thankful  I  bought  a 
small-sized  bottle,  ter  begin  on.  I  shan't  buy  another, 
without  I  see  signs  er  this  one's  a-workin'  more.  But 
there !  Some  folks  is  helped  by  medicine  thet  don't 
touch  another  person's  case  at  all.  Now  p'r'aps  this 
medicine  might  be  good  for  you,  Benjamin.  There  it 
is,  over  on  the  mantelpiece." 

Uncle  Ben  arose  mechanically  and  went  over  to  inspect 
the  omnipotent  mixture.  He  read  the  label,  in  a  low 
tone,  with  some  difficulty,  commenting  as  he  did  so  (after 
the  fashion  of  people  in  the  seventies)  upon  the  fineness 
of  the  type  and  the  dimness  of  the  ink.  Then  he  re 
marked,  turning  to  Mrs.  Snow,  "  This  ere  stuff's  good 
for  dyspepsy,  an'  bronical  troubles,  an'  kidney  troubles, 
an'  stomach  complaint,  an'  asthmy,  an'  —  an'  a  lot  o' 
others,  but  I  don't  see  nothin'  abaout  rheumatism." 

Mrs.  Snow  arose,  with  considerable  alacrity,  and  seized 
the  bottle  ;  she  eyed  it  a  moment,  took  out  the  stopper, 
smelt  it  and  tasted  it  critically,  and  then  exclaimed,  with 
some  disgust,  "Well,  I  vum  !  Ef  I  hain't  took  the  wrong 
medicine  !  I  must  'a'  got  them  bottles  mixed." 

Mixed  they  were,  and  no  wonder;  for  the  house 
contained  scores  and  scores  of  bottles,  empty  or  partly 
empty,  which  had  been  hopefully  purchased  by  the 
aging  woman,  and  disappointedly  laid  aside.  The 
discovery  of  this  mistake  gave  Mrs.  Snow  a  little  en 
couragement;  her  rheumatic  old  joints  seemed  not 
quite  so  stiff  as  when  she  thought  they  were  resisting 
this  new  medicine,  guaranteed  to  be  "  unusually  power 
ful." 

"  Well,  I  never !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  went  back  to 
her  work  on  the  old  dress. 


OLD   HEARTS    AND   YOUNG   LOVE  289 

"  Anyhow,"  she  resumed,  after  she  had  recovered  her 
equanimity,  "  I  don't  set  very  much  store  by  drugs  and 
such-like.  I  always  said  I  didn't.  Why,  I'd  give  more 
for  a  visit  from  ole  Doctor  Grout,  if  he  was  alive,  than 
—  than  a  whole  'pothecary  shop." 

The  aforesaid  "  ole  Doctor  Grout "  was  one  of  those 
nondescript  practitioners,  known  as  "  natural  bone 
setters."  His  naturally  clever  mind  being  reenforced 
by  the  mystery  of  the  magical  art  of  "  natural  bone 
setting,"  he  had  long  before  gathered  wealth,  and  in 
turn  been  gathered  to  his  fathers,  in  a  world  where 
there  are  no  bones  to  be  set;  and,  later,  his  cleverly 
gained  dollars  had  been  industriously  disseminated 
through  the  community,  by  three  worthless  sons.  But 
the  old  man  was  religiously  remembered,  by  the  gen 
eration  to  which  Mrs.  Snow  belonged,  as  a  being  of 
superhuman  powers.  "Why,  I've  often  said,"  pursued 
Mrs.  Snow,  ripping  steadily;  "that  I'd  rather  have  a 
visit  from  ole  Doctor  Grout,  even  when  he  was  deaf  an' 
half  blind,  than  a  whole  consultation  of  them  upstart 
young  fellows  with  college  s'tiferkits.  Oh,  he  was  a 
powerful  good  doctor,  he  was."  And  the  elderly  woman 
paused  and  looked  forth  into  vacancy,  evidently  seeing 
with  the  inner  eye.  "  Why,  he  could  look  —  look  right 
through  yer  innards,  an'  tell  jest  what  was  the  matter. 
Some  folks  used  ter  turn  up  their  noses  because  he 
use'  ter  take  a  little  nap  sometimes ;  but,  poor  man,  he 
was  drovre  almost  ter  death." 

Dr.  Grout's  "naps"  had  been,  indeed,  subjects  of 
local  gossip  and  controversy,  during  the  last  few  years 
before  he  died.  He  was  so  dim  of  sight,  in  his  latter 
days,  that  he  could  not  have  seen  the  vermilion  patch 
on  a  Pawnee's  cheek,  much  less  the  tint  or  spots  on  a 
juvenile  scarlet-fever  case  or  a  case  of  measles;  and, 
as  to  his  hearing,  he  often  went  through  the  form  of 


2 go  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

listening  to  hearts,  but  the  stertorous  gasps  of  a  hoisting 
engine  would  have  been  needed,  to  rouse  his  aural 
nerves  into  discriminating  action.  Then,  too,  regard 
ing  the  much-discussed  "naps,"  the  truth  was  that  the 
stout,  turgid  old  man,  coming  in  from  the  stimulating 
cold  air,  often  did  yield  to  the  close  air  of  the  sick-room, 
and  was  known,  repeatedly,  to  fall  asleep  at  the  bed 
side,  with  a  patient's  wrist  in  his  podgy  fingers.  But 
such  peculiarities  were  somehow  connected,  in  the  pop 
ular  mind,  with  his  other  occult  mental  processes,  and 
his  patients  usually  did  very  well ;  at  least  if  they  did 
not,  they  were  not  likely  to  be  in  a  state  to  tell  about  it. 

So  "  ole  Doctor  Grout "  had  occupied  a  place  in 
Mrs.  Snow's  life  which  patent  medicines  but  partly 
filled ;  and  the  old  lady  sighed,  and  plied  her  ripping 
knife  with  assiduity.  There  was  a  long  silence,  and 
presently  she  said  in  a  more  cheerful  tone,  "  Brought 
yer  fiddle  along,  Benjamin  ?  " 

This  was  tacitly  construed  to  mean  that  she  would 
like  to  hear  him  play  ;  so  Uncle  Ben  began.  A  younger 
person,  one  with  tact,  might  have  chosen  more  inspirit 
ing  songs ;  but  the  old  man  was  fond  of  the  more 
seriously  sentimental  kind,  and  played  "  Old  Dog  Tray," 
and  "  The  Harp  that  once  thro'  Tara's  Halls,"  and 
"  Robin  Adair."  The  music  came  from  the  instrument 
sweetly,  but  not  passionately ;  a  tear  dropped  at  inter 
vals  from  the  head  that  was  bent  over  the  old  dress; 
but  Uncle  Ben  never  experienced  this  extreme  of  senti 
ment  ;  he  took  his  griefs  and  his  memories  seriously, 
as  he  did  his  commonplaces  and  even  his  joys ;  but  he 
never  felt  the  poignancy  of  the  backward  look  and  the 
vanishing  past,  as  did  the  aged  widow.  Presently,  as  if 
noticing  her  depressed  mood,  he  passed  into  more 
cheerful  fields ;  he  played  "  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine 
eyes ;  "  and  "  Fill  the  bumper  fair,"  by  Tom  Moore. 


OLD    HEARTS   AND   YOUNG   LOVE  291 

Among  these  more  hilarious  tunes,  his  big,  clumsy 
fingers  made  less  successful  headway ;  but  his  audience 
was  not  critical,  and  both  the  old  people  caught  a  little 
of  the  magic  of  the  music.  At  length  the  widow  brushed 
away,  furtively,  the  moisture  about  her  eyes,  and  re 
marked,  "  Lor',  Benjamin,  what  good  times  I've  hed  in 
my  day !  Time  was  when  I  was  considered  the  spryest 
girl  in  all  the  country.  An'  dancin',  too  !  How  I  did 
love  ter  dance!  " 

Dancing  was  an  unknown  pastime  to  Uncle  Ben. 
Many  a  dance  had  he  supported  with  his  riddle,  but 
the  dancing  itself  he  had  never  tried.  The  mention  of 
it,  however,  recalled  scenes  which  were  agreeable.  He 
fiddled  away,  growing  redder  and  redder  in  the  face. 
The  perspiration  rolled  down  his  cheeks  in  great 
globules  and  rushing  rivulets.  "  I  b'lieve  I'll  ease  up 
a  bit,"  he  remarked,  and  began  to  take  off  his  coat ;  he 
followed  this  by  removing  his  "  dicky  "  and  neckerchief. 
"  Kinder  hot  work !  "  he  added,  and  sat  down  again  to 
his  playing.  He  warmed  up,  considerably,  on  the 
familiar  old  dancing  tunes,  and  Mrs.  Snow's  wrinkled 
face  relaxed,  and  her  foot  tapped  time  to  the  music. 

"  I  do  believe,  Benjamin,"  she  began,  in  a  hesitating 
way,  "  I  really  do  believe —  I  —  could  step  that  dance  — 
ef  — well,  I  b'lieve  I'll  try."     And  she  laid  down  her 
work  and  arose  briskly. 

At  that  moment  some  confused  sounds  were  heard, 
outside  the  sitting-room  door.  Next,  the  door  opened, 
and  the  specious,  smiling  countenance  of  Mr.  Wilbur 
Blaney  appeared  in  the  doorway.  Behind  him  appeared 
the  disturbed  face  of  the  housemaid  who  had  opened 
to  him  the  street-door,  and  had  vainly  essayed  to  bar 
his  progress  into  the  sitting  room.  Blaney  had  on  his 
most  engaging  grimace.  He  advanced,  and  bowed 
suavely.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Snow," 


292  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

he  said,  with  a  bow  which  he  considered  his  very  best. 
"  And  looking  so  well,  I  must  say." 

He  merely  glanced  at  Uncle  Ben,  whom  he  knew 
only  by  sight,  and  gave  his  entire  attention  to  the  now 
confused  widow.  She  was  thankful,  a  hundred  fold, 
that  she  had  not  been  actually  caught  in  the  frivolity  of 
dancing.  A  sense  of  her  age  came  back  to  her ;  the  spell 
of  the  music  had  momentarily  hidden  the  years ;  now 
they  rolled  back  upon  her,  with  their  full  weight.  She 
felt,  too,  not  a  little  annoyance,  at  this  comparative  stran 
ger's  coming  straight  into  her  sitting  room.  It  was  con 
trary  to  her  directions.  And  she  responded  to  the  eager 
hand-grasp  of  the  visitor,  with  perplexity  and  timidity. 

"  I  recollect  meeting  you  several  times,"  said  Blaney, 
seating  himself  in  a  chair,  even  before  his  hostess  sat 
down  ;  "I  know  you  must  remember  me,  Wilbur  Blaney, 
Esq.,  of  the  North  American  Consolidated  Caoutchouc 
Company."  And  he  extended,  between  the  tips  of  his 
fingers,  a  large,  showy-looking  business  card. 

The  widow  took  it  vaguely,  but  did  not  look  at  it. 
She  simply  sat,  in  a  repressed  way,  while  her  visitor  set 
his  glib  tongue  in  purposeful  motion,  and  unfolded  to 
her  the  unparalleled  possibilities  for  wealth  of  this  Com 
pany  of  which  he  was  the  secretary.  "You  see,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Snow,"  said  he,  with  fervor,  "there  is  just 
now  a  rare  opening  for  capital,  in  the  rubber  world.  All 
the  trades  are  using  rubber  very  largely,  and  the  demand 
exceeds  the  supply.  With  all  this  use  of  rubber  for 
wheels,  as,  for  instance,  on  bicycles  and  motor  carriages, 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  meeting  the  demand.  And, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Snow,  what  is  the  result  ?  I  will  tell  you. 
Rubber  is  going  up,  going  up." 

Blaney  pictured  to  his  listener  this  process  of  levitation, 
by  gracefully  raising  his  hands  into  the  air.  Uncle  Ben 
chanced,  just  then,  to  look  across  from  the  farther  end 


OLD   HEARTS  AND   YOUNG   LOVE  293 

of  the  room,  at  the  couple,  and  thought  the  visitor  was 
pronouncing  a  benediction  on  his  old  friend ;  but  the 
hands  were  quickly  lowered,  and  the  voluble  tongue  sped 
on  in  its  persuasive  speech.  "  Now,  you  see,  the  largest 
part  of  the  rubber,  or  caoutchouc,  as  it  should  more 
properly  be  called,  used  in  the  industrial  world,  has 
been  taken,  heretofore,  from  the  back  forests  of  South 
America ;  but  now,  so  great  has  been  the  demand,  that 
even  those  forests  have  become  denuded  of  their  rub 
ber  trees,  and  there  will  soon  be  a  scarcity  of  rubber  in 
the  market." 

Blaney  leaned  over  affectionately  toward  his  victim, 
as  he  poured  out  this  flood  of  talk.  It  was  a  situation 
in  which  he  excelled ;  he  really  believed,  at  least  for  the 
moment,  all  that  he  expressed.  He  dearly  loved  to 
make  large  talk,  on  just  such  themes  as  this,  for  it  opened 
up  a  vastness  of  area  in  which  his  pettiness  expanded 
and  rested  itself.  "  Now,  Mrs.  Snow,"  he  continued, 
holding  her  attention  with  his  forefinger,  but  himself 
gazing  across  the  room,  "the  world  looks  to  America 
for  its  great  staple  products.  And  England  and  France 
and  Germany  and  other  great  nations  are  stretching  out 
their  hands  to  us,  for  the  fundamental  necessaries  of  life. 
'  Give  us  wheat,'  they  say,  and  '  give  us  vegetables,' 
and  '  give  us  rubber.'  And  what  reply  and  response 
shall  we  give  ?  Mrs.  Snow,  in  a  few  years  the  answer 
and  reply  and  response  will  be  made  and  given  by  this 
great  Consolidated  Caoutchouc  Company,  of  which  I 
have  the  honor,  the  distinguished  honor,  to  be  the  secre 
tary.  Listen,  madam  !  "  And  Blaney's  voice  dropped 
into  a  whisper.  "  The  great  Consolidated  Caoutchouc 
Company  is  buying  up  thousands  of  acres  in  Florida, 
and  is  preparing  to  plant  rubber  trees,  and,  ere  long, 
will  be  able  to  give  a  complete  and  full  and  adequate 
response  to  all  European  demands." 


294  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

He  fixed  his  enthusiastic  gaze  on  the  aged  woman, 
who  seemed  somewhat  disconcerted,  but  showed  no  sign 
of  a  responsive  enthusiasm.  After  pausing  a  moment, 
as  if  in  rapt  vision  of  the  glorious  future,  Blaney  con 
tinued,  in  his  most  confidential  tone,  "  Now,  Mrs.  Snow, 
I  thought  that  you  might  like  to  know  about  this  rare 
investment,  and  I  came  around  to  give  you  such  infor 
mation  as  lay  in  my  power.  Any  money  which  you  put 
into  this  investment  will  be  like  —  like  bread  cast  upon 
the  waters  ;  it  will  return  to  you  —  buttered  —  after  — 
not  many,  many  days." 

His  manner  was  cheerful  and  sympathetic ;  and  the 
old  lady,  although  she  had  met  his  entrance  with  annoy 
ance,  was  somewhat  gratified  at  the  sound  of  a  friendly, 
masculine  voice  —  a  sound  which  was  very  rare  within 
the  walls  of  her  home.  She  rallied  a  little  from  her 
discomfiture,  and  gave  the  talkative  little  man  some  in 
telligent  attention.  Then  she  asked  one  or  two  ques 
tions,  and  each  question  acted  like  an  incautious  foot-fall 
on  an  Alpine  peak  —  it  dislodged  masses  of  verbiage  — 
which  threatened  to  overwhelm  her.  The  name  of  the 
company  seemed  to  trouble  her,  and  she  asked  twice 
over  about  it.  "Caoutchouc,  Caoutchouc?"  she  pon 
dered  distrustfully.  "  What's  that  ?  Sounds  kinder  like 
a  sneeze." 

The  agile  Blaney  met  the  random  shot  with  skill. 
"  Well,  I  can  assure  you,  m'am,  our  company's  not  to  be 
sneezed  at."  And  then  he  seemed  immensely  delighted, 
and  glanced  around,  hoping  that  the  other  occupant  of 
the  room  perceived  his  clever  wit.  But  Uncle  Ben  was 
impassively  gazing  out  of  the  window,  unmoved  and  ex 
pressionless,  a  spectacle  of  interest  to  sundry  people  on 
the  street. 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Snow,"  began  the  secre 
tary  again,  in  a  soft,  purring  tone,  "  this  is  a  rare  oppor- 


OLD    HEARTS   AND   YOUNG   LOVE  295 

tunity  to  double  and  even  treble  money.  It  is  a  sure 
thing.  You  can  take  ten,  twenty,  or  a  hundred  shares, 
ten  dollars  a  share,  and  you  will  see  your  money  come 
back  fifty  and  a  hundred  fold." 

It  was  a  fact  perceived  by  the  wily  secretary,  that 
his  victim  was  weakening ;  she  was  foreordained,  by 
forty  years  of  married  life  with  the  departed  Snow,  a 
masterful  spirit,  to  weakly  yield  to  masculine  assertion 
and  domination.  "  How  —  how  —  er  —  much  did  you 
say — the  shares  were?"  she  asked. 

"  Ten  dollars,  madam,"  responded  Blaney,  with  dig 
nity.  "  We  thought  at  first  of  putting  them  at  one 
hundred  each;  but  our  company  is  very  broad  and  phil 
anthropic,  and  decided  to  put  them  down  to  ten,  in  order 
that  people  who  were  not  wealthy  might  be  enabled  to 
increase  their  slender  property."  This  was  a  good  place 
for  him  to  stop  ;  but  Wilbur  Blaney  never  knew  the 
value  of  what  orators  call  "the  pause."  And  he  had 
an  instinct  to  fill  every  blank  moment  with  words.  The 
old  lady  was  really  very  near  the  point  of  ignition,  if  he 
had  allowed  her  to  focus  her  thought  a  few  moments 
longer  upon  her  will.  But  he  began  to  describe  the 
grandeur  of  this  rubber  forest  that  was  to  be,  in  Florida, 
and  when  he  paused,  the  widow  asked  vaguely,  "  How 
long  —  long  —  does  it  take  them  trees  ter  —  ter  grow 
up  and — and  bear  the  rubber?"  Evidently  she  thought 
that  boots  and  tires  and  coats  were  to  be  gathered,  as 
finished  products,  from  the  branches. 

"  Oh,  only  a—  '  Blaney  started  to  give  the  usual  an 
swer —  "only  a  few  years."  But  his  quick  senses  told 
him  that  for  such  a  listener  and  possible  investor  as  this 
aged  dame  the  term  of  "  a  few  years  "  might  seem  in 
conveniently  long ;  and  he  covered  his  sentence  in  a 
cough  and  then  brought  it  out  again  in  new  form, 
"  Only  a  very  short  time,  my  dear  Mrs.  Snow  —  a  very, 


296  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

very  short  time."  Then  he  graphically  pictured  the  fer 
tility  of  the  Florida  soil,  and  the  readiness,  yes,  the  eager 
ness,  of  the  rubber  tree  to  rise  into  towering  luxuriance 
—  especially  when  planted  and  encouraged  by  the  great 
North  American  Consolidated  Caoutchouc  Company. 
There  was  a  luscious  prodigality  in  Blaney's  language, 
which  made  the  old  lady  almost  think  that  rubber  was 
edible  and  very  palatable ;  but  she  restrained  her  partly 
hypnotized  faculties,  and  tried  to  look  at  the  plain  facts. 
Suddenly  she  bethought  her  of  Uncle  Ben.  "  Benja 
min,"  she  said,  more  in  her  normal  tone  of  quiet  assur 
ance,  "  Benjamin,  come  over  here  !  " 

How  much  of  the  conversation  the  old  man  had 
heard  cannot  be  stated,  but  he  had  gathered  enough  to 
understand  what  the  visitor's  errand  was.  He  walked 
across  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Snow  said,  "  Benjamin,  Mr. 
Blaney  wants  me  ter  invest  in  —  in  —  something. 
What  do  you  think  about  it  ? " 

The  agent  of  the  Consolidated  felt  a  natural  chagrin, 
at  having  all  his  expansive  dissertation  on  rubber  and 
climate  and  shares  suddenly  condensed  into  the  one 
vague  word  "  something."  But  he  recovered  quickly, 
and  advanced  to  the  attack.  He  had  nearly  carried  one 
redoubt,  and,  as  in  the  Boer  War,  here  was  another 
revealed  behind  it.  "  How  do  you  do  ? "  he  began, 
meeting  the  old  man  with  his  blandest  manner.  Then, 
as  Uncle  Ben  volunteered  nothing,  he  went  on  in  his 
nervous,  nimble  way,  repeating  much  of  the  "  patter  " 
which  he  had  given  to  the  widow.  Through  it  all  Uncle 
Ben  maintained  an  inscrutable  mien,  looking  straight  at 
the  secretary  and  uttering  no  word.  There  were  sev 
eral  very  convenient  stopping-places,  as  there  often  are 
in  long-winded  preachers'  discourses,  but  Blaney  never 
knew  how  to  make  an  exit;  and  he  "stayed  in,"  with 
increasing  weariness  to  his  listeners. 


OLD   HEARTS  AND   YOUNG  LOVE  297 

Finally,  at  one  pause,  longer  than  usual,  the  widow 
turned  to  Uncle  Ben,  "  Benjamin,  what  do  you  think 
of  this  plan  ?  " 

The  old  man  cleared  his  throat,  and  then  delivered 
himself,  briefly,  but  intelligibly,  with  precisely  the  candor 
he  would  have  shown  in  setting  a  value  on  a  cow  or  a 
horse.  "  Mis'  Snow,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  jest  like  the 
looks  er  this  man."  He  addressed  the  widow  as  he 
spoke.  Then  he  turned  his  great  red  honest  face  full 
on  the  now  angry  visitor,  gazed  thoughtfully  at  him  for 
a  moment,  and,  turning  again  toward  his  old  friend,  he 
said,  "  Tears  ter  me  't  he  don't  look  jest  honest." 

Well !  This  was  a  pleasant  sentence  to  fall  on  the 
Blaney  ears,  but  the  Blaney  face  and  eyes  and  gestures 
all  justified  it.  "I  —  I  — don't  understand,  sir,  what  — 
what  you  mean,"  bristled  he,  with  features  working 
wrathfully.  "  I  have  never  been  so  insulted  in  my 
life." 

He  was  astonished  and  angry  and  dreadfully  disap 
pointed.  He  drew  out  his  handkerchief,  wiped  his 
forehead,  then  his  hands,  and  restored  the  fabric  to  his 
pocket.  Mrs.  Snow  was  somewhat  surprised,  and  vis 
ibly  trembled,  but  she  said  nothing.  Both  the  old 
people  remained  silent  and  impassive.  The  natural 
reticence  of  age  served  them  well ;  and  Wilbur  Blaney, 
after  two  or  three  futile  attempts  to  repair  the  breach  in 
his  defences,  made  by  these  two  destructive  bomb-shells 
of  Uncle  Ben's,  and  after  repressing  a  rising  desire  to 
strike  the  imperturbable  old  man  to  the  floor,  fumed 
and  fretted  his  way  to  the  door,  and  went  out  with  a 
slam. 

Mrs.  Snow  sank  back  into  the  chair  from  which  she 
had  partly  risen.  "Lor'  sakes,  Benjamin,"  she  gasped, 
"  I  feel  all  upset."  And  her  hands  trembled  so  that 
she  could  hardly  gain  possession  of  her  handkerchief. 


298  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

"  There,  there,  Elviry !  Naow  don't  take  on  so !  " 
said  Uncle  Ben,  comfortingly.  "  It's  all  over,  and  you 
haint  a-goin'  ter  be  swindled."  Whereupon  fresh  rec 
ollections  of  the  harrowing  interview  came  upon  the 
widow,  and  she  sobbed  and  rocked  nervously. 

The  door  opened  once  more,  and  the  housemaid 
looked  in  to  be  assured  that  everything  was  right.  Mrs. 
Snow  caught  sight  of  her,  and  at  once  lost  her  feelings 
of  feebleness  in  more  robust  emotions  of  anger.  "  You 
hussy  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "what  did  you  let  that 
awful  man  in  for  ?  Haven't  I  told  you,  time  and  again, 
not  to  let  in  any  of  those  agents  and  canvassers  and 
such  things?  I  have  never — " 

The  housemaid  was  a  Yankee  girl,  untrained  and  in 
solent,  and  she  broke  in  upon  her  mistress  with  reso 
nant  tones  that  silenced  that  lady's  thin,  piping  voice : 
"  Well,  I'd  have  yer  know  that  he  came  right  in  him 
self.  I  told  him  that  it  was  against  orders,  but  he  jest 
elbowed  his  way  right  in.  The  cheek  of  the  man !  " 
And  the  girl  tossed  her  head,  and  stood  with  arms  akimbo, 
with  all  the  self-assertion  of  a  falsely  accused,  free-born 
American  citizen. 

Mrs.  Snow  was  convinced,  and  again  took  refuge  in 
tears.  The  maid  backed  out,  scolding  Blaney,  Mrs.  Snow, 
and  even  herself.  "  O  dear  me,  Benjamin  !  "  sobbed  the 
widow,  after  the  maid  departed,  "  I'm  a  poor  lonely  old 
woman,  unprotected."  And  she  cast  an  appealing  look 
up  at  the  wall,  where  hung  the  portrait  of  her  departed 
husband,  grim  and  resolute,  even  in  paint  and  canvas, 
and  much  more  so  in  the  flesh. 

Uncle  Ben  was  about  as  skilful  in  comforting  a  weep 
ing  woman,  as  a  cow  would  have  been  in  caring  for  a 
deserted  kitten  or  a  bereft  chicken ;  but  his  intentions 
were  of  the  best,  and  when  he  tried  to  wipe  the  old 
.dame's  brown  wrinkled  forehead,  with  a  piece  of  the 


OLD   HEARTS   AND   YOUNG   LOVE  299 

old  black  dress  which  she  was  "  ripping,"  the  clumsy 
kindness  of  the  act  made  the  widow  laugh,  and  she 
caught  Uncle  Ben's  big  hairy  paw,  and  clung  to  it  with 
affection.  "Benjamin,"  she  said,  "you're  the  only  real 
friend  I've  got.  All  these  folks  in  the  house  is  time- 
servers.  All  of  'em  after  money,  and  all  losin'  sleep 
nights  tryin'  to  think  how  they  can  get  rid  o'  their 
work.  Oh,  Benjamin,"  she  continued  with  increasing 
and  pathetic  earnestness,  "  there  ain't  no  place  in  the 
world  for  an  old  woman  like  me.  All  the  book  agents 
and  the  committees  a-chasin'  after  me,  a-wantin'  sub 
scriptions  and  contributions  —  not  one  of  'em  cares  a 
pennyworth  about  me  myself,  but  all  with  an  eye  for 
my  money.  The  door-bell  never  rings,  Benjamin,  day 
in  an'  day  out,  without  it's  somebody  that's  tryin'  to  get 
somethin'  out  er  me."  And  she  rocked  back  and  forth, 
overcome  with  her  loneliness  and  helplessness. 

Uncle  Ben  made  no  further  attempt  to  quiet  her,  but 
stood,  open-mouthed  and  mildly  compassionate,  waiting 
for  the  storm  to  subside.  Suddenly  a  new  idea  came 
to  the  widow.  "  Benjamin,"  she  said,  speaking  with 
quietness  and  resolution,  "  I'm  a-goin'  ter  say  some 
thing  to  you —  something  serious.  I'm  —  I'm — "  Here 
she  broke  off,  and,  looking  fixedly  at  him  a  moment, 
she  continued,  "  Benjamin,  put  on  your  vest  and  dicky 
again ! " 

Uncle  Ben  stared  a  moment,  then  obeyed.  He  pres 
ently  stood,  fully  clothed,  in  "  Mis'  "  Snow's  presence. 
"  Now,  Benjamin,  you're  in  a  fit  state  of  body  and  of 
mind,  I  hope,  to  hear  the  serious  words  I'm  a-goin'  ter 
say  ter  ye. 

"Benjamin,  I'm  alone  an'  you're  alone;  we're  both 
alone  ;  an'  —  an'  the  Scripture  says  —  says  that  it  ain't 
good  for  folks  ter  be  alone.  Now  I've  'bout  made  up 
my  mind  that  you  an'  I'd  better  git  married.  I  don't 


300  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

really  trust  anybody  in  the  world,  Benjamin,  'xcept 
you;  and  —  " 

"Did  —  you  —  say  —  er  —  merried?"  queried  Uncle 
Ben,  showing  more  genuine  surprise  in  his  mild,  dim, 
blue  eyes  than  had  appeared  there  for  years. 

"I  did,  jest  that,"  retorted  the  widow,  defiantly,  her 
strength  and  spirit  reviving. 

"All  —  right,"  assented  Uncle  Ben,  submissively,  and 
waited  for  further  information. 

"  As  I  was  a-sayin',"  continued  the  widow,  "  I'm 
alone,  an'  you're  alone ;  an'  I'm  hunted  almost  ter 
death,  by  agents  and  sich,  an'  I'm  lorded  it  over  by 
these  upstart  servant  girls,  an'  if  you  was  reg'larly  my 
husband,  Benjamin,  you  could  protect  me  as  you  can't 
now." 

"  P'r'aps  I  could,"  agreed  Uncle  Ben,  gently,  yet 
hopefully. 

"Yes,  you  certainly  could.  An'  I  want  that  hussy 
discharged,  first  of  all;  that  one  that  talked  back  to 
me  so,  jest  now.  I've  tried  twice  ter  discharge  her, 
but  I  somehow  couldn't.  I  told  her  ter  go,  an'  she 
jest  laughed  at  me.  O  dear,  dear!"  and  once  more 
the  poor,  desolate,  feeble  old  lady  sank  back  in  tears. 

Uncle  Ben  cleared  his  throat  and  began,  "  I'd  hev 
ter  stay  ter  hum  with  the  cats,  nights,  Elviry,  I  —  I 
really  would,  yer  know.  But  days,  now,  I  could  be 
over  here  most  er  the  time." 

His  reflections  were  of  an  interrogative  nature,  and 
Mrs.  Snow  received  them  as  such.  "  Yes,  you  could 
keep  the  cats,  an'  stay  over  ter  your  place  nights ;  but 
if  we  was  married,  that  would  give  yer  power  an' 
authority — ter  —  ter  protect  me.  Oh,  Benjamin,  I'm 
—  I'm  a  poor,  lone  old  woman."  And  again  sobs  and 
tears. 

Soon  she  roused  herself,  and  went  on  with  the  sub- 


OLD   HEARTS   AND   YOUNG   LOVE  301 

ject.  Evidently  she  had  thought  it  out  before,  and  this 
recent  annoying  episode  had  merely  chemically  precipi 
tated  in  her  mind  what  was  before  a  strong  solution. 
She  had  about  half  supported  her  old  friend,  during  the 
past  dozen  years,  and  but  few  changes  would  be  made 
in  either  of  their  lives  by  the  union.  "  You  must  have 
some  better  clothes,  Benjamin,"  she  said  thoughtfully, 
"  an'  I  won't  have  yer  a-carryin'  that  fiddle  back  an' 
forth  in  the  streets ;  I'll  get  yer  another  one,  an'  yer 
can  keep  one  in  each  place.  Now  —  now,  Benjamin,  I 
feel  a  lot  better  already ;  an'  I  want  you  ter  go  an'  get 
the  papers,  whatever  is  necessary,  the  —  the  license,  I 
mean.  An'  if  you'll  have  your  friend,  Mr.  Freeman, 
come  around  here  some  day  soon,  we'll  be  married ; 
yes,  married.  My  heart's  set  on  it." 

So  Uncle  Ben,  always  having  obeyed  "  Mis '  "  Snow, 
obeyed  her  in  this  particular,  and  agreed  to  go,  the  next 
day,  to  the  city  hall,  and  take  out  the  required  license. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE    PRICE    OF    BLOOD 

"  Not  what  we  give,  but  what  we  share. 
For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare." 

—  J.  R.  LOWELL. 

So  the  two  old  people  were  made  one  —  one  in  the 
sight  of  the  law,  as  they  had  been  one  in  trustfulness 
and  sympathy  for  years  past.  The  marriage  caused  no 
stir.  There  was  no  general  interest  aroused  in  it.  One 
newspaper  had  three  or  four  lines  about  it ;  but  few 
readers  had  even  heard  about  the  names  of  the  contract 
ing  parties ;  indeed,  several  persons  who  were  familiar 
with  the  large  figure  of  the  old  man,  ruddy  faced  and 
white  haired,  knew  him  only  as  "Uncle  Ben,"  and  they 
did  not  recognize  him  under  the  dignified  title  of  Ben 
jamin  Symmes  Birch.  In  the  household  of  Mrs.  Snow 
a  considerable  flurry  was  stirred  up  in  spinster  breasts  ; 
but  as  the  members  of  the  household  were  apprised 
of  the  coming  event,  only  twenty-four  hours  before  it 
happened,  the  tide  of  emotion  did  not  have  time  to 
reach  a  very  great  height.  Mrs.  Snow  was  naturally 
timid  and  defenceless,  in  the  hands  of  the  "help,"  and 
in  this  matter  of  a  marriage  she  was  especially  sensitive. 
She  did  not  quite  dare  to  say  the  surprising  words 
directly  to  anybody  in  the  house ;  so  she  wrote  a  note  to 
the  cook,  who  was  the  leader  in  all  household  insubordi 
nation,  and  broke  the  news  in  this  way.  The  cook  at 
once  became  dignified  and  taciturn,  but  was  not  forget 
ful  of  her  professional  duties.  She  prepared,  with  skill 


THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD  303 

and  despatch,  a  wedding-cake ;  but  she  made  it  in  the 
largest  possible  baking-pan,  giving  it  vast  area,  and  on 
this  expansive,  snowy  surface  she  wrote  her  virtuous 
protest.  She  inscribed,  in  that  pink  composition  of  liquid 
sweetness,  known  more  intimately  in  the  kitchen  than  in 
the  library,  the  number  "74,"  this  being  the  age  of  the 
widow,  to  the  best  of  the  cook's  knowledge. 

Mr.  Freeman  came  to  the  house  one  afternoon,  the 
two  old  people  were  married,  and  then  the  three  returned, 
each  to  his  usual  routine  of  life :  Mrs.  Birch  to  her  sew 
ing  and  knitting,  Uncle  Ben  to  his  chores  and  cats, 
and  Mr.  Freeman  to  his  multifarious  duties.  The  busy 
clergyman  had  been  somewhat  surprised,  at  learning 
about  the  intended  marriage,  but  now  that  it  was  over, 
it  seemed  not  a  bad  plan  after  all  ;  moreover  Mr.  Free 
man  was  so  deeply  absorbed,  at  this  time,  in  certain 
labor-union  troubles,  that  he  had  little  attention  to  give 
to  other  affairs.  The  masons  of  the  city  had  struck,  in 
a  body,  and  after  a  week's  idleness  had  gone  back  to 
work ;  and  it  was  understood  that  the  minister  of  the 
chapel  on  the  North  Side  had  been  an  effective  force 
in  bringing  about  this  result. 

During  the  •  several  years  in  which  Freeman  had 
shared  the  life  of  this  quarter  of  the  city,  he  had 
steadily  gained  in  influence  among  all  classes.  There 
was  a  simplicity  about  him  which  made  him  easy  to  get 
at,  and  made  his  words  carry  conviction.  He  wore  no 
clerical  costume  whatever,  and  did  not  arouse  that  idle 
transient  interest,  which  is  aroused  in  work  like  his  by 
persons  who  affect  a  peculiar  garb.  Such  an  interest  is 
useful  up  to  a  certain  point ;  but  in  the  end  it  precludes 
that  mutual  confidence,  which  can  exist  between  two 
human  beings,  only  as  each  feels  the  resemblances  that 
unite,  and  forgets  the  differences  which  tend  to  keep 
asunder. 


304  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Beyond  this,  Lawrence  had  a  real  interest  in  sociologi 
cal  matters.  His  name  was  becoming  a  familiar  one,  in 
the  lists  of  contributors  to  economic  journals,  and  he 
was  frequently  invited  to  address  conventions  and 
associations,  on  economic  and  sociological  topics.  This 
side  of  His  life  was  but  little  known  to  the  rank  and  file 
of  the  workmen,  and  to  but  few  of  their  leaders  ;  but  so 
just  and  intelligent  a  character  as  his  very  favorably 
interested  such  men  in  overalls  as  met  him.  He  had 
attended  some  of  their  meetings,  and  they  naturally 
turned  to  him,  after  their  week's  idleness  and  anxiety, 
and  he  met  a  large  committee  and  conferred  with  them. 

Exactly  how  that  conference  went  on,  nobody  clearly 
knew.  Reporters  were  not  allowed  to  be  present,  and 
the  union  leaders  did  not  care  to  talk,  especially  as  they 
yielded  their  contention,  and  ordered  the  various  branches 
of  the  union  to  return  to  work. 

Lawrence  was  in  Mr.  Marshall's  counting-room,  not 
long  after,  and  the  mill-owner  asked  him  a  few  questions 
about  the  matter.  "  I  don't  wish  to  pry  into  any  secrets," 
he  began  good-naturedly,  yet  as  always,  truthfully,  "  but 
from  what  I  hear,  you  knew  more  about  the  ending  of 
that  strike  than  most  of  us  did." 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  secret  about  it,"  responded  Lawrence, 
freely.  "  I  talked  the  matter  over,  with  some  of  the 
leaders,  and  they  saw  that  their  best  interests  lay  in 
resuming  work." 

"  Whether  it  was  for  their  interest  or  not,"  remarked 
Mr.  Marshall,  "  it  was  certainly  greatly  for  the  interest 
of  Leon  Carsten  and  Company.  You  knew,  of  course, 
just  how  bad  a  fix  Carsten  was  in  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Lawrence.  "All  that  side  of 
it  was  fully  understood  by  the  labor  unions.  They 
were  partly  led  by  the  fact  of  his  extensive  building 
operations  to  choose  the  time  they  did." 


THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD  305 

"Well,  it  meant  a  great  many  thousands  of  dollars 
to  Carsten,"  remarked  Mr.  Marshall.  "  His  shops  are  well 
along  toward  completion  now,  and  he  will  be  ready  to 
meet  the  contracts  which  he  made  with  those  St.  Louis 
firms.  He  was  anxious  about  it,  I  could  see ;  although 
he  is  a  man  who  affects  indifference,  and  always  seems 
to  have  unlimited  resources.  On  the  whole  I  am  glad 
that  the  matter  resulted  so  satisfactorily.  I  can't  help 
wondering,  though,  how  you  dared  to  give  those  fellows 
such  advice  as  I  am  told  you  gave.  My  experience  has 
been  that  they  are  headstrong,  and  not  very  open  to 
instruction  of  any  sort." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  compensations  of  my  peculiar  posi 
tion,"  said  Lawrence,  with  satisfaction,  "that  I  can  talk 
freely  to  any  and  all  classes.  I  belong  to  no  class,  in 
dustrially,  and  these  men  know  it.  I  am  especially  glad 
of  this  settling  of  the  strike,  because  it  helps  maintain 
my  cherished  theory  about  the  true  powers  of  the  re 
ligious  teacher  of  our  day,  and  the  proper  scope  of 
church  influence." 

"  Whatever  your  theory,"  remarked  Mr.  Marshall,  in 
a  friendly  tone,  "  I  can  safely  assert  beforehand  that  it 
will  not  be  one  that  I  have  heard  from  the  present 
preacher  at  Emmanuel  Church.  He  never  deals  with 
theories,  not  he ;  he  deals  in  facts,  or  rather  in  stories 
about  facts,  although  I  am  bound  to  say  to  his  credit 
that  he  has  been  preaching  less  sensationally  and  more 
sensibly  of  late.  We  are  all  coming  to  think  that  Mrs. 
Guthrie  is  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

Lawrence  nodded,  in  a  sympathetic  way.  He  had 
arrived  at  the  same  conclusion.  But  he  had  wished 
for  some  time  to  speak  of  this  unfolding  theory  of  his 
about  churches,  and  now  was  come  a  good  opportunity. 
"  I  state  my  view  in  this  way,"  said  he.  "  I  believe 
that  the  Christian  churches  are  falling  into  decay  and 


306  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

extinction,  because  they  are  wedded  to  the  old  views  of 
Christianity,  which  were  negative,  in  ideas  and  prac 
tices  ;  and  the  demand  of  this  age  is  for  something 
positive,  in  human  activity,  industrial,  scientific,  or 
moral.  Take  the  ideal  of  Jesus  which  has  been  held 
up  by  the  Christian  church  during  eighteen  centuries. 
It  was  established  by  the  application  of  the  ancient 
'  Messianic  Prophecies,'  so  called,  to  the  person  of  Jesus  ; 
and  it  emphasizes  the  patience  and  humility  of  the 
Master,  at  the  expense  of  the  more  positive  and  initia 
tive  powers  which  he  unquestionably  possessed.  The 
church  has  accepted  the  simile  of  the  patient  sheep, 
'  dumb  before  her  shearers,'  and  has  thought  of  him 
solely  as  'a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief.' 
The  artists  of  the  Christian  church  have  unconsciously 
accepted  this  partial  view  of  the  Master,  and  have  still 
further  fixed  the  negative  ideal  of  his  character,  by 
their  pictures  of  scourging  and  crucifixion." 

As  Lawrence  paused,  Mr.  Marshall  took  up  his  idea 
with  acuteness.  "  That  way  of  putting  it  explains  to 
me  what  I  felt  when  I  saw  the  Passion  Play  of  Ober- 
Ammergau.  You  know  we  all  went  over,  four  years 
ago.  I  felt,  as  I  saw  that  wonderful  drama,  that  the 
character  of  '  Christus  '  was  disappointing  ;  but  I  didn't 
know  just  why  I  felt  so.  I  see  now  that  the  Passion 
Play  portrayed  only  one-half  of  the  character  of  Jesus." 
.  "  Yes,  that  is  what  the  name  signifies.  Passion  means 
endurance  of  ills,  sufferings ;  and  what  the  public  sees 
portrayed  at  Ober-Ammergau  is  what  the  world  has 
seen  in  the  Christ  Ideal,  these  many  centuries ;  namely, 
the  negative,  patient,  suffering  Jesus.  Now  the  records 
of  the  great  prophet's  life  are  all  too  meagre,  but  they 
give  ample  indications  of  a  very  active,  positive,  even 
dominating  spirit.  The  attitude  of  Jesus  toward  the 
money-changers  in  the  temple,  and  toward  the  hard- 


THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD  307 

ened  Pharisees,  was  threatening  and  denunciatory ;  and 
his  entire  mission  was  earnest,  though  sympathetic, 
aggressive,  though  loving." 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  suggested  Mr.  Marshall,  tentatively, 
"  but  doesn't  Tolstoi',  the  Russian  writer,  take  different 
ground  on  the  matter?  " 

"Yes,  he  does,"  assented  Lawrence,  promptly.  "He 
has  a  theory  of  non-resistance,  which  he  thinks  he 
deduces  from  the  life  and  teachings  of  Jesus ;  but  I 
believe  he  has  failed  to  grasp  the  deeper  meaning  of 
that  profound  life  in  Palestine.  I  believe  that  Jesus 
taught  and  practised  a  kind  of  holy  retaliation  —  the 
return  of  love  for  hate;  the' response  of  kindness  to 
injury.  To  remain  passive,  submissive,  under  insult  and 
injury,  is  only  going  halfway  toward  the  goal  which 
Jesus  pointed  out.  We  must  go  far  beyond  that,  as 
Jesus  himself  did,  and  return  on  him  who  steals  from 
us,  or  in  any  way  harms  us,  pity  and  love.  That  is 
positive  Christianity,  and  is  far  harder  and  higher  to 
attain,  than  submission,  and  avoidance  of  positive  sin- 
fulness." 

Mr.  Marshall  shook  his  head  doubtingly,  yet  with  a 
smile.  "I'm  afraid,"  said  he,  "that  such  doctrines  are 
too  soft  and  pulpy  for  practical  life  to-day.  I  think  we 
shall  need  jails  and  prisons  a  good  while  yet." 

"  So  do  I  think  so,"  argued  Lawrence,  with  warmth. 
"  I  do  not  urge  their  demolition,  nor  do  I  urge  the  ban 
ishing  of  restraints  and  penalties  for  sin  and  crime.  I 
urge,  simply,  that  love  and  tenderness  must  be  behind 
such  reformatory  systems,  or  they  fall  short  of  Christ's 
injunctions.  A  human  parent  is  often  obliged  to  cor 
rect  his  child,  and  even  to  cause  him  pain  of  some  kind ; 
but  he  does  all  in  love  and  hope.  However,"  he  con 
tinued  more  quietly,  "  that  was  not  the  exact  phase  of 
this  theory  of  a  positive  Christianity  which  I  started  to 


308  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

unfold.  I  am  concerned  about  the  obvious  decay  and 
decrepitude  of  the  churches ;  and  I  believe,  as  I  have 
said,  that  this  has  come  about  because  the  churches 
unconsciously  uphold  and  practise,  as  organizations,  the 
negative  virtues  of  Christianity.  The  world  never  showed 
as  much  altruistic  zeal  as  to-day,  but  that  zeal  and  energy 
is  developed  and  applied,  I  regret  to  say,  largely  outside 
the  organized  religious  bodies.  The  churches  urge  les 
sons  of  patience  and  endurance,  and  avoidance  of  sin ; 
but  they  must  swing  around  into  the  larger  orbit,  and 
urge  an  aggressive  warfare  against  sin  and  disease  and 
misery,  in  all  their  hideous  forms." 

"  This  is  all  somewhat  novel  to  me,  I  must  admit,"  re 
marked  the  mill-owner.  "  I  never  thought  of  these  mat 
ters  in  this  way  before,  yet  what  you  say,  Mr.  Freeman, 
has  an  air  of  good  sense  about  it." 

"  I  do  believe  in  it,"  continued  Lawrence,  speaking 
rapidly  and  earnestly.  "  Ministers  and  church  members 
are  principally  occupied  —  so  far  as  sin  is  concerned  — 
with  keeping  away  from  it ;  whereas  they  ought  to  keep 
as  close  to  it,  in  every  form,  as  they  can  —  close  to  it, 
attacking  and  exterminating  it.  What  is  worse,  there 
is  a  very  general  nervousness  and  morbid  sensitiveness 
in  the  churches,  about  being  misunderstood,  and  being 
talked  about,  and  being  '  written  up  '  in  the  newspapers. 
To  avoid  publicity  and  to  shun  being  railed  at  by  the 
press  —  that  is  a  controlling,  enslaving  principle  of 
church  members,  and  is  a  formidable  barrier  to  the 
true  mission  of  the  church  to-day.  Why,  I  would  like 
to  see  the  whole  basis  of  sentiment  and  action  so 
changed,  that  the  churches  would  carry  on  newspapers 
which  should  be  scrupulously  exact  and  truthful  in  all 
departments,  and  theatres  and  lecture-courses  also. 
These  might  be  made  powerful  factors  for  education 
in  at  least  morals,  and  even,  with  care  and  delicacy,  in 


THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD  309 

things  spiritual.  Note  also  the  reform  committees  and 
investigation  boards  in  our  cities  !  What  better  ground 
for  these  and  similar  enterprises  to  spring  out  of  than 
the  churches !  And  men,  not  women,  in  the  churches, 
should  lead  in  doing  these  things.  I  hope — " 

At  this  moment  Freeman  was  interrupted  by  a 
man  who  came  into  the  counting-room.  "  Oh,  it's  Mr. 
Carsten,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Marshall,  rising.  "  I  have  a 
little  business  with  him.  Don't  go,  Mr.  Freeman.  I'll 
introduce  you,  and  then  I  will  take  him  into  the  inner 
office.  We'll  be  out  in  a  few  moments.  I  want  you  to 
meet  him,"  and  he  added  in  a  still  lower  tone,  "and 
then  you  may  tell  me  what  you  think  of  him." 

Freeman  was  introduced,  and  looked  the  newcomer 
over  with  much  interest.  Carsten,  for  his  part,  bent 
his  piercing  black  eyes  upon  the  clergyman,  with  that 
penetrating  and  even  insolent  stare  with  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  meet  and  dominate  new  people.  The 
man  was  well  known  to  Freeman,  by  reputation,  both 
on  the  industrial  and  the  social  side.  The  labor-union 
leaders  had  given  no  very  flattering  picture  of  him,  in 
his  business  dealings,  and  socially  the  man  occupied  a 
peculiar  position  in  the  community.  He  was  a  man  of 
medium  height,  with  broad  shoulders  and  well-poised 
head,  which,  when  he  was  seated,  led  one  to  expect  a 
tall,  well-modelled  figure ;  but,  standing,  he  was  seen  to 
be  rather  short  in  the  legs,  and  therefore  always  seemed 
disproportioned.  He  was  black  haired,  swarthy  in  com 
plexion,  with  aquiline  nose,  and  piercing  black  eyes  set 
closely  together.  Mentally  he  was  quick,  decisive,  re 
sourceful,  and  clever  in  epigrammatic  sayings  and  in 
stinging  repartee.  He  was  self-reliant  and  lawless, 
socially,  and  took  delight  in  defying  the  customs 
and  conventions  of  society.  Everybody  feared  his 
sharp  tongue  and  dreaded  his  wit  and  ridicule.  He 


3io  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

had  led  a  free  life,  even  to  the  extent  of  profligacy ; 
and  there  were  many  stories  afloat  in  society  regarding 
his  libertine  youth.  Now  that  he  was  beyond  middle 
life,  he  lived  more  quietly ;  but  his  house,  where  he 
entertained  frequently,  had  been  often  the  scene  of 
over-indulgence,  and  he  was  said  to  find  amusement 
in  urging  young  people  to  excess  in  drinking,  and  in 
language  which  had  brought  shame  to  them  afterwards 
and  horror  to  the  hearts  of  their  parents.  He  was  a 
member  of  a  church  which  privately  disapproved  him, 
but  publicly  accepted  his  allegiance  and  his  consider 
able  gifts  and  his  shrewd  counsel.  He  was  a  man 
after  the  type  of  the  Greek  profligate,  Alcibiades,  who 
insulted  and  maltreated  his  inferiors  on  the  streets, 
and  healed  their  wounded  feelings  by  a  largess  of  gold. 
Carsten  delighted  in  defying  public  opinion,  and  then 
bribing  it  with  unexpected  gifts  of  a  fountain,  or  books 
to  the  library,  or  a  stained  window  for  a  church. 

All  this  was  well  known  to  Freeman,  and  he  had 
long  felt  that  the  brilliant,  dissolute  man  was  a  baneful 
influence  in  the  community.  He  had  been  influenced 
in  advising  the  labor  leaders  to  resume  work,  not  at  all 
by  any  friendliness  for  Carsten ;  on  the  contrary,  his 
sympathy  was  very  slight  toward  the  factory-owner ; 
but  the  best  interests  of  the  working-men,  in  the  long 
run,  had  seemed  to  the  clergyman  to  suggest  temporary 
concessions.  Whether  or  not  Carsten  knew  the  part  he 
had  played  in  bringing  about  the  close  of  the  strike, 
Freeman  was  not  sure.  Certainly  there  was  no  sign  of 
it  in  the  factory-owner's  cold,  piercing  glance,  as  the 
two  shook  hands. 

Lawrence  seated  himself  in  his  chair  again,  as  Mr- 
Marshall  led  his  visitor  into  the  inner  office ;  and  he 
now  took  up  the  daily  newspaper.  Engaged  in  this 
reading,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  passed ;  and  the  inner 


THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD  311 

office  door  opened  and  the  two  manufacturers  came 
out.  A  few  final  words  were  exchanged  between  them, 
and  Carsten  started  to  go  out  upon  the  street.  He 
took  hold  of  the  door-knob,  paused,  and  returned  to  the 
desk  near  Lawrence.  The  clergyman's  back  was 
turned,  and  he  did  not  see  what  Carsten  was  doing. 
"  Mr.  Freeman,"  spoke  the  factory-owner,  in  his  crisp 
and  almost  contemptuous  way;  and  Lawrence  arose 
and  turned  toward  him. 

"  There's  a  check  for  your  gospel-mill,  if  you  want, 
it,"  continued  Carsten.  "  'Tisn't  much,  only  a  hundred 
dollars,  but  perhaps  you  can  use  it  to  advantage.  Dis 
tribute  Bibles,  or  buy  catechisms,  or  some  such  damned 
nonsense  as  that,  I  suppose !  Anyhow,  the  money's 
yours."  And  he  proceeded  to  put  back  his  check 
book  into  his  pocket. 

There  was  the  same  insulting  tone  of  contempt,  in 
his  voice,  with  which  he  usually  accompanied  his  be 
stowal  of  gifts.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  and  the  cut 
of  his  mustache  and  imperial  gave  his  cold  smile,  at 
these  moments,  a  cynical  flavor  which  was  Mephisto- 
phelian.  He  stood  waiting,  a  moment,  for  some  re 
sponse  from  the  clergyman.  Mr.  Marshall  also  stood 
near,  and  something  in  Lawrence's  face  made  the  mill- 
owner  drum  nervously  on  the  edge  of  the  desk.  The 
clerk,  across  the  office,  lifted  furtive  glances  of  interest 
over  the  edge  of  the  ponderous  ledger. 

Lawrence's  face  grew  very  rigid,  his  legs  stiffened, 
and  he  gazed  straight  into  the  cynical  face  before  him. 
The  scene  was  a  trying  one  for  him.  He  needed  the 
money,  not  for  such  purposes  as  Carsten  had  insolently 
suggested,  but  to  put  in  benches  and  other  fittings,  for 
a  class  in  manual  training.  There  lay  the  check,  on 
the  desk,  where  the  manufacturer  had  dropped  it,  not 
even  deigning  to  hand  it  to  the  clergyman.  It  lay 


3i2  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

there  —  so  it  seemed  to  Lawrence  —  like  a  bone 
thrown  to  a  dog ;  and  the  hand  that  had  drawn  it,  was 
the  hand  that  had  enticed  young  souls  to  perdition  and 
had  laughed  at  their  fall ;  the  name  on  the  bit  of  paper 
was  a  name  feared  (but  abhorred  in  secret)  by  all  re 
spectable  people  in  the  community. 

Carsten  was  a  very  keen  man  ;  and  he  thought  he 
knew  perfectly  well  what  the  struggle  was,  that  held 
the  clergyman  in  his  valley  of  indecision.  He  thought 
he  knew  it,  and  he  was  amused  at  it,  had  seen  similar 
situations  before,  and  had  always  seen  one  outcome  — 
the  half-ashamed,  apologetic  acceptance  of  the  gift. 
This  kind  of  outcome  was  what  he  always  relished,  as 
if  he  were  looking  on  at  a  stage  drama.  He  stood  there, 
silently  waiting  for  the  clergyman  to  reach  his  decision, 
confident  that  the  decision  would  be  capitulation.  His 
smile  deepened  in  sardonic  intensity.  He  waited. 

"  Mr.  Carsten,"  began  Freeman.  He  spoke  very 
slowly.  He  wished  to  say  exactly  the  right  words. 
He  paused,  because  he  was  instinctively  about  to  ex 
press  formal  thanks  for  the  offer ;  but  he  omitted  that 
clause.  "  Mr.  Carsten,  I  do  not  wish  to  take  your 
check.  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  offered  it.  I  —  I  — 
because  your  offer  puts  me  under  the  painful  necessity 
of  —  declining  it." 

His  slight  hesitation  in  speech  was  misconstrued  by 
Carsten,  but  Mr.  Marshall  knew  him  better,  and  foresaw 
an  unpleasant  scene.  "There,  there!"  responded  the 
factory-owner,  with  a  deprecatory  gesture,  and  with  a 
mocking  smile  playing  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
"  pocket  the  dirty  stuff !  It's  filthy  lucre,  I  know,  but 
we  fellows  have  to  hustle  like  the  devil  to  get  it." 

As  he  spoke,  he  began  moving  toward  the  door.  He 
considered  the  gift  accepted,  and  cared  not  to  waste 
more  time.  Suddenly  and  sharply  rang  out  the  words, 


THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD  313 

"  Mr.  Carsten  !  "  It  was  Freeman's  voice,  clear,  inci 
sive.  "  I  shall  not  take  your  check.  If  you  leave  it,  it 
still  remains  yours.  Mr.  Marshall  will  doubtless  see  that 
it  is  returned  to  you."  With  this  unmistakable  declina 
tion,  Freeman  quietly  sat  down  in  the  chair,  and  took  up 
his  paper  with  all  the  indifference  he  could  assume. 

Carsten's  face  underwent  a  transformation.  This  was 
an  outcome  of  the  scene  which  he  had  not  anticipated. 
Mr.  Marshall  did  not  like  to  look  directly  at  him,  for 
he  was  a  man  who  loved  peace  and  kindliness,  and 
had  a  horror  of  strife.  The  clerk,  however,  from  over 
the  edge  of  the  ledger,  could  see  Carsten's  under  lip 
get  between  his  white,  wolf-like  teeth,  and  his  long, 
sinewy,  be-ringed  fingers  clench  together  tightly.  But 
his  voice  was  steady,  as  he  came  across  to  Lawrence, 
and,  gazing  down  at  him,  asked,  "  And  why  do  you  de 
cline  my  money,  may  I  ask?  " 

Lawrence  returned  his  look  with  one  no  less  self- 
contained  ;  then  he  rose  from  his  chair,  for  there  was  a 
lurking  threat  in  the  man's  eyes  that  boded  ill.  The 
two  faced  each  other,  a  yard  or  two  apart.  Lawrence, 
now  that  the  situation  was  avowedly  a  battle,  all  fencing 
being  laid  aside,  felt  the  substratum  of  his  nature  stirred, 
and  knew  again  the  joy,  the  stern  joy,  of  defying  in 
iquity  and  condemning  a  vicious  life.  "  Mr.  Carsten," 
he  replied,  with  courtesy  but  with  firmness  and  entire 
self-reliance,  "  I  do  not  wish  for  your  money ;  that  is 
enough  for  me  to  say." 

The  swarthy  face  before  him  worked  nervously.  Car 
sten  was  not  used  to  this  kind  of  situation.  His  pride 
was  piqued  and  his  will  defied.  "  See  here !  "  he  ex 
claimed,  "  I  ask  you  a  plain  question.  I  want  a  plain 
answer.  Why  do  you  refuse  my  money  ?  Isn't  it  good 
money  ? " 

The  wilful  profligate  knew  well  the  ground   of   the 


3M  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

minister's  refusal.  But  he  was  a  bold  spirit,  and  dared 
attack  almost  any  stronghold.  Many  a  time  his  over 
bearing  manner  and  his  threatening  eyes  had  made  an 
adversary  retreat,  even  after  offering  temporary  resist 
ance.  But  this  time  his  opponent  had  an  amount  of 
iron  in  his  blood,  that  precluded  any  such  outcome. 
The  line  of  Freeman's  dark,  dense  eyebrows  seemed 
to  straighten  and  stiffen,  and  the  scar  on  the  side 
of  his  square  forehead  became  livid.  "  Mr.  Carsten,. 
I  say  again  that  I  do  not  wish  for  your  money. 
And  since  you  demand  my  reason  for  my  attitude,  I  will 
give  it.  I  wish  no  assistance,  in  my  work  of  lifting  men 
and  women  out  of  sin  and  degradation,  from  a  man  who 
has  done  so  much  to  lead  men  and  women  down  into 
those  conditions." 

Certainly  the  words  were  plain  enough.  There  was 
no  mistaking  the  clergyman's  meaning,  and  the  factory- 
owner  caught  his  breath,  despite  all  his  self-possession, 
under  the  lash  ;  for  he  had  not  listened  to  such  plain 
speech,  for  years.  His  experience  was  all  the  other 
way.  Nobody  had  dared,  for  the  last  twenty  years  of 
his  prosperous,  dictatorial  career,  to  speak  such  words 
to  him.  The  clerk,  over  the  edge  of  the  ledger,  saw  his 
shoulders  heave,  and  knew  that  at  any  moment  a  blow 
might  be  delivered.  Carsten  stood  a  moment,  his  head 
slightly  inclined  forward,  his  eyes  blazing  with  wrath, 
his  face  a  vortex  of  malignant  fury.  Then  he  shook 
himself,  like  a  dog  coming  out  of  the  water,  and  hissed, 
"You  damned  psalm-singing  —  " 

"  Mr.  Marshall,"  interrupted  Freeman,  in  a  strong, 
resonant  tone  that  had  plenty  of  suggestive  vibration 
in  it,  "  Mr.  Marshall,"  —  and  he  kept  his  deep-set  eyes 
fastened  on  the  two  scintillatory  eyeballs  in  front  of 
him,  — "  I  do  not  wish  to  be  the  cause  of  any  disgraceful 
scene  in  your  office.  I  shall  be  obliged  to  bid  you  good 


THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD  315 

morning."  And  he  moved  slowly  backward  and  away, 
still  keeping  his  gaze  on  the  furious  face  in  front  of 
him,  as  a  lion-tamer  holds  the  gaze  of  a  savage  beast, 
when  about  to  leave  the  cage. 

Carsten's  eyes  followed  the  clergyman,  in  every  move 
ment  he  made,  and  not  until  the  outer  door  closed, 
did  he  seem  to  come  to  himself.  Then  his  rigidity 
of  poise  slackened  gradually,  he  mechanically  ran  his 
fingers  over  his  mustache  and  imperial,  then  smoothed 
his  hair,  and  acted  like  a  man  recovering  from  a  dis 
orderly  encounter  with  fists.  Indeed,  he  could  hardly 
have  sworn  that  he  had  not  actually  come  to  blows  with 
his  hated  antagonist.  In  his  will,  in  his  heart,  there 
had  been  overwhelming  hate,  and  the  desire  to  crush. 
His  mental  disorder  could  have  been  no  greater,  if 
blows  had  actually  been  reached.  He  saw  that  he 
had  been  defied  and  really  put  to  defeat ;  and  the  clerk 
heard  him  mutter  a  stream  of  profanity,  which  seemed 
to  scorch  the  air  that  was  touched  by  it. 

Mr.  Marshall  was  himself  in  a  highly  agitated  frame  of 
mind ;  but  his  natural  resource,  in  all  times  of  pressure, 
was  silence  and  self-repression.  Accordingly  he  ven 
tured  no  soothing  remark,  but  quietly  stepped  behind 
his  desk  and  began  sorting  some  papers  which  lay  there. 
The  clerk  across  the  room  gave  no  sign  of  life,  except 
when  he  turned  a  ledger  leaf,  and  this  act  he  performed 
as  if  he  were  on  picket-duty,  under  the  enemy's  sharp- 
shooting  fire. 

Presently  Carsten  walked  toward  the  door,  stopped, 
walked  back  to  the  desk,  whereon  lay  his  unaccepted 
check,  took  the  unoffending  piece  of  paper,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  venomous  insect  or  reptile,  and  tore  it  into 
minute  shreds.  Then  he  walked  rapidly,  and  with  his 
usual  bold  stride,  across  to  the  outer  door,  and,  without 
a  word  to  anybody,  went  out. 


CHAPTER   XX 

BARRIERS    BURNED    AWAY 

"If any  man's  work  shall  be  burned,  he  shall  suffer  loss;  but  he 
himself  shall  be  saved;  yet  so  as  by  fire."  —  I  Corinthians  iii.  15. 

RONALD  CARNAQUAY  was  conscious,  now,  that  his  affec 
tions  were  seriously  twined  about  Adeline  Guthrie.  He 
had  thought  about  her  by  that  name  for  some  time. 
He  had  not  dared  to  call  her  "  Adeline,"  openly,  but  he 
thrilled  when  he  heard  any  of  her  old  and  intimate 
friends  speak  of  her  in  that  familiar  way.  He  even 
resented  its  use  by  some ;  and  he  chafed  inwardly,  be 
cause  they  could  speak  of  her  lightly,  often  in  so  inti 
mate  a  fashion,  and  he  still  be  compelled  to  continue 
calling  her,  respectfully  and  distantly,  "  Mrs.  Guthrie." 

His  congregation  also  knew,  in  a  general  way,  that  he 
was  undergoing  some  deep,  mental  experience,  but  only 
a  few  had  any  inkling  of  its  exact  nature.  There  were 
various  signs  of  this  new  condition  of  things,  in  the 
clergyman's  life.  In  the  first  place,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  the  cleverer  portion  of  the  parish  noticed  a  marked 
change  in  the  material  of  which  his  sermons  were  made 
up.  There  was,  as  Mr.  Marshall  expressed  it,  "  more 
substance  "  in  them,  and  a  wider  range  of  reference  to 
the  best  authors.  In  addition  to  this  change,  there  was 
another  in  his  style  of  delivery  ;  he  was  more  repressed 
and  moderate  in  his  ways  of  expression ;  and  many 
people  felt,  rather  than  consciously  noted,  that  there 
was  less  self-assurance  in  the  man.  He  was  less  assertive 
and  confident;  in  truth,  he  had  lost,  in  a  measure,  the 

316 


BARRIERS   BURNED   AWAY  317 

poise  of  good  nature  and  self-confidence,  which  had 
made  him  attractive  in  the  pulpit.  For  although  such 
poise  may  be  pushed  so  far  as  to  become  offensive  in  a 
speaker,  he  must  always  possess  a  considerable  amount 
of  it,  in  order  to  make  his  listeners  lean  upon  him  and 
his  words,  with  confidence. 

This  change  was  a  positive  loss  of  power  to  him,  and 
of  pleasure  to  many  in  his  congregation,  but  in  another 
way  there  was  a  gain.  He  was  more  personal  in  his 
preaching,  seemed  to  take  more  thought  of  people  and 
circumstances  where  hilarity  and  jollity  were  not  the 
end  and  aim  of  life ;  also  in  his  prayers  there  crept  in 
more  and  more  a  spirit  of  longing  and  heart-hunger, 
which  made  them  voice  more  intimately  the  words  of 
serious  and  earnest  people  in  the  congregation. 

Thus,  in  various  ways,  to  the  really  acute  observer, 
Ronald  Carnaquay  was  distinctly  a  different  person 
from  what  he  had  been  when  he  came  to  Emmanuel 
Church.  As  to  his  own  recognition  of  his  altered  state 
of  mind,  he  was  fairly  conscious  of  it.  He  had  sought 
Mrs.  Guthrie's  companionship,  sedulously,  had  been 
lifted  and  educated  by  it,  and  knew  now  that  she  was 
dearer  to  him  than  all  else  in  the  world.  Of  course 
there  was  only  one  way  out  of  it  all.  He  must  win  her 
love,  and  with  that  end  consciously  in  mind,  he  con 
sulted  her  wishes  in  every  possible  way,  paid  her  many 
little  attentions,  and  hoped  that  she  was  not  wholly  un 
responsive.  If  he  had  felt  sure  that  she  would  listen  to 
him  favorably,  he  would  have  offered  himself  to  her,  at 
the  first  opportunity ;  but  once  or  twice  when  he  had 
been  alone  with  her,  and  their  conversation  had  drifted 
into  favorable  situations  for  such  an  avowal,  the  sensi 
tive  woman  had  broken  through  the  narrowing  circle 
which  he  was  weaving  about  her,  and  had  escaped  into 
the  most  trivial  commonplaces.  Once  when  he  was  con- 


3i8  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

fiding  in  her  his  distaste  for  the  blind,  uncritical  ap 
proval  of  the  congregation  at  large,  he  had  been  led  by 
a  sympathetic  light  in  her  eyes  to  exclaim,  "  My  dear 
Mrs.  Guthrie,  there  is  one  whom  I  care  more  and  more 
to  please,  one  whose  approval  I  care  more  to  deserve, 
than  all  the  fulsome  flattery  of  the  multitude." 

At  this  point  his  listener's  eyes  began  to  twinkle  with 
mischief,  and  she  responded,  "  Yes !  ah,  yes !  You 
mean  the  approval — of  God.  That  is  the  right  attitude 
of  mind,  Dr.  Carnaquay,  for  every  true  minister.  I  am 
glad  you  have  come  to  that  point." 

Thus  his  plan  fell  completely  through,  for  that  day. 
And  thus  it  was  on  several  occasions.  The  charming 
widow  was  capricious  as  a  butterfly,  and  although  he 
felt  sure,  at  times,  that  she  cared  at  least  a  little  for  him, 
he  was  a  cautious  man,  and  a  vain  man  (as  she  had 
often  told  him),  and  he  did  not  dare  or  choose  to  risk 
his  amour-propre  in  one  concise  declaration. 

She,  on  her  part,  was  tolerably  certain  of  the  condi 
tion  he  was  in.  He  sent  her  flowers  —  not  always  in  the 
best  aesthetic  grouping,  but  he  sent  them  in  profusion. 
These  she  had  accepted  graciously ;  then  had  come 
little  presents  which  at  first  she  had  refused,  with  polite 
phrases.  Later  she  had  accepted,  although  with  much 
perturbation  and  self-distrust,  several  copies  of  books 
which  he  had  sent  to  her.  She  knew  her  own  mind,  up 
to  this  point  only  —  that  he  was  much  less  distasteful  to 
her  than  formerly;  and  she  had  even  passed  from  amus 
ing  herself  by  teasing  him  and  piquing  his  vanity,  to 
many  serious  discussions  of  various  subjects.  Less  and 
less  he  posed,  in  his  professional,  oracular,  condescend 
ing  way,  when  they  were  alone.  She  was  often  struck 
by  the  difference  between  his  manner,  when  she  formed 
one  of  a  group  about  him,  and  his  manner  when  they 
two  were  alone  together.  There  was  humility  in  his 


BARRIERS   BURNED   AWAY  319 

attitude,  when  talking  with  her  alone,  which  few  other 
people  ever  saw;  and  at  times  he  forgot  his  usual 
stilted  style  of  speech,  and  she  felt  rather  sure  that  she 
saw  his  real  character,  and  felt  the  heart-beat  of  a 
genuine,  earnest  nature  and  purpose.  But  again  and 
again  she  said  to  herself  that  he  was  much  better  as  a 
man  than  as  a  minister ;  and  her  real  opposition  and 
rebellion  to  his  manifest  attentions  was  because  of  his 
profession,  so  little  did  he  fill  out  her  ideal  of  that  lofty 
life  of  service  and  sympathy. 

Thus  matters  stood  between  them,  and  had  so  stood 
for  months.  Mrs.  Guthrie  kept  up  her  work  at  the 
chapel  on  the  North  Side,  but  did  not  visit  the  Free- 
mans,  in  their  home,  nearly  so  much  as  formerly.  She 
was  always  in  her  pew,  at  morning  service  in  Emmanuel 
Church,  and  continued  to  instruct  the  class  in  Sunday- 
school.  Carnaquay,  on  his  part,  struggled  along,  and 
now  had  about  given  up  his  visits  and  calls,  at  Miss 
Metcalf's  stately  mansion.  A  slowly  increasing  cool 
ness  was  come  between  them.  Miss  Metcalf  rarely 
appeared  at  church,  and  rumor  had  it  that  she  was 
seen  frequently  in  the  congregation  of  the  rival  church, 
around  the  corner  from  Emmanuel  Church. 

What  the  end  of  all  this  might  have  been,  cannot  be 
confidently  stated,  had  not  dear,  clumsy-minded  Matilda 
Fifield  stumbled  into  the  arena,  and  brought  matters 
much  nearer  a  conclusion.  It  happened  in  this  way : 
Matilda  was  on  a  committee,  at  the  church,  to  direct  a 
"salad  supper,"  or  a  "turkey  dinner,"  or  something 
of  that  sort,  and  she  had  entered  upon  her  duties  with 
delirious  inconsequence.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  cle'ar 
head  of  Mrs.  Bellaire,  whom  she  had  asked  to  assist 
her,  there  would  have  been  little  progress  made.  It  was 
the  forenoon  of  the  day  appointed  for  the  festivity,  and 
Matilda  was  at  the  church,  busy  in  the  kitchen,  red  in 


320  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

face,  and  dishevelled  as  to  hair.  Mrs.  Bellaire  drove 
over  with  her  husband,  and  brought  several  articles  of 
food.  With  difficulty  Mrs.  Bellaire  restrained  her  ener 
getic,  self-reliant  husband  from  removing  his  coat  and 
waistcoat,  and  chopping  wood  and  making  the  fire  in 
the  range  of  the  well-equipped  church  kitchen.  Better, 
perhaps,  if  her  recently  developed  niceties  and  proprie 
ties  had  allowed  the  proceeding,  for  the  worthy  plumber 
knew  almost  as  much  about  ranges  as  he  did  about 
water-pipes  and  sewer-traps.  However,  he  was  re 
strained,  and  departed,  and  the  culinary  work  went 
forward,  Matilda's  tongue,  of  course,  outstripping  her 
hands  in  activity. 

Presently  Mrs.  Bellaire  went  away  also,  to  "  solicit " 
some  celery  and  olives  from  a  grocer  down  the  street. 
The  course  of  subsequent  events,  as  nearly  as  they 
could  be  later  inferred,  from  the  demoralized  Matilda's 
narration,  was  something  like  this:  The  ineffective 
creature  started  her  range  fire,  and  it  went  out;  then 
she  piled  the  charred  debris  from  the  range  into  a  coal 
scuttle,  carried  it  into  the  cellar,  emptied  it  out,  and 
carried  back  to  the  kitchen  a  new  supply  of  kindling 
wood  and  shavings.  It  must  have  been  that  the  scatter 
brained  woman  did  not  wholly  extinguish  the  smoking 
waste-stuff,  taken  from  the  range ;  in  any  event,  she 
made  a  new  fire  in  the  range,  and  this  time  with  suc 
cess.  And  she  went  on  with  her  preparations  for  the 
"turkey  dinner,"  with  great  satisfaction  to  herself, 
and  with  pleasurable  anticipations  of  the  words  of 
approval  which  she  would  receive,  in  the  evening,  from 
the  various  skilled  housewives  of  the  parish,  and  possi 
bly  from  the  authoritative  Miss  Metcalf,  —  if  that  lady 
happened  to  be  in  a  gracious  mood. 

But  no  such  deserved  success  was  to  crown  her 
efforts.  As  she  trotted  amiably  and  contentedly  about 


BARRIERS   BURNED   AWAY  321 

the  kitchen,  she  became  aware  of  an  increasing  confu 
sion  of  noise,  in  the  street  outside.  She  even  recognized 
vaguely  the  cry,  "  Fire !  "  and  she  thought  she  would 
presently  step  to  the  side  door,  near  at  hand,  and  see 
what  the  matter  was.  The  noise  increased,  the  cries 
grew  louder,  and  Matilda,  always  blessed  with  a  good 
share  of  curiosity,  went  over  to  the  door,  with  a  cloth 
tied  over  her  hair  and  a  half-cut-up  turkey  in  her  hand. 
Opening  the  door,  she  saw  men  and  boys  running  about 
in  the  street,  and  many  of  them  were  shouting  "  Fire !" 
Several,  as  they  saw  her  appear  in  the  doorway,  stopped 
and  stared,  then  they  shouted  "  Fire  !  "  louder  than  ever, 
and  seemed  to  shout  it  directly  at  her.  She  stood 
stupidly  staring  at  them,  and  they  ran  toward  her. 
"  Fire  !  Fire  !  "  they  shouted. 

"Where?  Where  —  where  is  it?"  she  responded, 
vacantly. 

"  The  church  !  "  cried  a  score  of  voices ;  and  she  was 
swept  aside  by  a  crowd  of  excited  firemen,  who  rushed 
in,  passed  quickly  through  the  kitchen  and  the  vestry, 
and  flung  open  the  door  of  the  auditorium  of  the 
church ;  through  the  keyhole  and  cracks  of  the  door 
tiny  whirls  of  smoke  were  streaming,  and,  as  the  door 
itself  swung  back,  a  great  volume  of  dense  smoke 
poured  out,  and  spread  through  the  vestry  and  adjoining 
rooms. 

Needless  to  say  that  poor  Matilda,  having  thus 
"  builded  better  than  she  knew,"  was  hurriedly  hustled 
out  of  the  place,  and  made  her  way  to  a  position  of 
safety,  from  which  she  watched  the  progress  of  the 
flames,  with  anxiety  and  increasing  remorse. 

The  fire  undoubtedly  had  started  from  the  ashes  and 
smouldering  kindlings,  emptied  out  into  the  cellar  near 
some  inflammable  material.  At  any  rate,  there  had  been 
no  other  fire  in  the  church,  for  several  days,  and  the 


322  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

conflagration  had  worked  up  from  the  cellar,  at  the 
front  of  the  church,  between  the  partitions,  and  then 
had  burst  out  through  the  roof. 

There  was  the  usual  uproar,  throughout  the  streets, 
as  fire-engines  and  hook-and-ladder  apparatus  came 
galloping  to  the  scene  of  action.  There  were  some 
efforts  made  at  saving  movable  articles  in  the  church, 
and  the  pulpit  Bible  and  a  few  hymn-books  were  carried 
out,  also  a  few  pictures  from  the  vestry.  But,  from 
the  first,  the  chief  engineer  saw  that  the  church  was 
doomed,  so  generally  had  the  flames  spread  through 
the  front  of  the  building  and  throughout  the  garret  or 
unfinished  loft  overhead.  He  therefore  directed  his 
attention  to  saving,  if  possible,  the  chapel  or  vestry, 
which  was  a  part  of  the  church  building,  although 
under  a  separate  roof.  Also,  there  were  several  ad 
jacent  buildings  which  were  very  inflammable,  and 
great  care  was  needed  to  protect  them. 

Among  the  first  hundred  persons  who  arrived,  was 
Carnaquay ;  he  heard  the  alarm  sounded,  and  recog 
nized  the  number  of  the  box  near  Emmanuel  Church. 
So  soon  as  he  reached  the  church,  he  saw  that  there 
was  no  saving  it ;  and  he  went  around  to  the  rear,  and 
entered  the  vestry,  and  then  looked  into  the  auditorium. 
It  made  his  heart  beat  with  excitement,  to  see  the  large 
space,  where  he  had  so  often  preached,  now  filled  with 
smoke,  and  to  know  that  in  an  hour  the  great  structure 
would  be  a  mass  of  smouldering  ruins.  As  yet  the  fire 
had  not  burst  through  into  the  auditorium,  but  its  roar 
ing  beyond  the  partition  wall  and  overhead  was  very 
apparent.  He  stood  a  moment  in  the  doorway,  holding 
the  door  open,  when  one  of  the  firemen  who  knew  him 
said  to  him,  "  Better  shut  the  door,  Dr.  Carnaquay, 
and  keep  the  draught  away  from  the  flames!" 

So   Carnaquay  cast  one    lingering,   regretful   glance 


BARRIERS   BURNED   AWAY  323 

around,  saw  dimly  his  pulpit,  and  the  gleam  of  the 
great  organ-pipes  above,  as  they  waited,  like  a  platoon 
of  soldiers,  to  meet  their  doom,  then  stepped  back  and 
shut  the  door.  For  a  few  minutes  he  occupied  himself 
in  searching  out  and  removing  certain  valuables  in  the 
vestry  and  in  the  study  adjoining;  then  he  noticed  a 
woman  enter  the  outer  door  and  come  toward  the  large 
door  leading  into  the  church.  A  fireman  near  by 
stepped  over  and  ordered  her  back.  She  replied,  and 
as  her  face  turned  toward  the  clergyman,  he  was 
startled  at  recognizing  Mrs.  Guthrie. 

Immediately  he  hurried  toward  her,  and  exclaimed, 
"  My  dear  Mrs.  Guthrie,  you  must  not  come  in  here. 
You  run  great  risks  in  doing  so." 

He  saw  that  her  countenance  had  an  expression  of 
great  determination  upon  it,  and  her  voice,  as  she  recog 
nized  him,  was  full  of  suppressed  feeling.  "  I  must  go 
into  the  church,  Dr.  Carnaquay.  I  must  go  and  I 
shall.  There  is  a  Bible  in  my  pew,  which  I  will  not 
have  burned  up  ;  "  and  she  took  firm  hold  of  the  handle 
of  the  door  leading  into  the  church. 

"But  I  beg  that  you  won't  think  of  such  a  thing," 
exclaimed  Carnaquay,  now  alarmed  at  the  situation; 
for  he  knew  her  determined  nature. 

"Yes,  but  I  will ! "  she  cried,  with  a  toss  of  her  head, 
and  pulled  open  the  door. 

The  clergyman  remonstrated,  but  in  vain.  He  caught 
her  by  the  arm,  and  she  drew  away  with  an  imperious 
gesture.  "  I  will  get  that  book  !  "  she  cried.  "  It  is 
very  dear  to  me.  My  —  my  —  Dr.  Guthrie  gave  it  to 
me ; "  and  she  sprang  through  the  doorway,  before  he 
could  stop  her. 

He  followed,  feeling  an  anxiety  and  anger  and  alarm, 
greater  than  he  had  ever  known  before.  The  smoke 
was  now  less  dense  in  the  great  room,  for  the  reason 


324  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

that  several  windows  above  had  yielded  to  the  fire,  had 
fallen  out,  and  the  smoke  found  vent  through  those 
apertures.  This  change  was  favorable  to  her  daring, 
wilful  purpose ;  but  with  it  had  come  another  change, 
which  was  fraught  with  peril.  Gleams  of  fire  could  be 
distinguished  at  several  points  overhead,  as  the  devour 
ing  element  ate  its  way  downward  through  the  floor  of 
the  garret.  Carnaquay  could  easily  see  Mrs.  Guthrie, 
picking  her  way  along  the  side  aisle,  and  he  leaped 
after  her.  At  least  he  would  share  the  peril  with  her, 
and  help  bring  the  adventure  to  a  speedy  termination. 
In  another  moment  his  long  strides  brought  him  beside 
her,  and  together  they  hurried  down  the  aisle,  which 
was  littered  with  cushions  and  books  and  footstools, 
where  hasty,  half-hearted  rescuers  had  left  them.  As 
the  two  reached  the  corner  where  was  the  Guthrie 
pew,  a  loud  crash  behind  them  made  the  clergyman 
turn  his  head ;  and  he  could  not  repress  an  exclama 
tion  of  alarm,  as  he  saw  that  a  section  of  the  ceiling 
had  fallen  into  the  body  of  the  church  ;  and,  looking 
up,  he  saw  and  heard  the  roaring  flames,  now  revealed 
in  all  their  fury.  "  Quick,  now  !  quick !  "  he  cried. 
"  Which  pew  is  it  ? "  and  he  saw  the  dark-gowned,  grace 
ful  form  that  he  loved  so  well,  glide  into  one  of  the 
pews  at  his  right.  In  a  tumult  of  impatience  he  waited 
—  it  was  only  a  few  seconds,  but  it  seemed  as  many 
long  minutes  —  as  Mrs.  Guthrie  pulled  over  the  cushions 
and  scattered  books.  Then  she  caught  up  a  little 
volume,  pressed  it  instinctively  to  her  breast,  and  came 
out. 

He  turned,  and,  with  his  sharp  eyes  and  quickened 
judgment,  saw  that  they  could  not  return  as  they  had 
come.  Masses  of  flaming  material  were  now  dropping 
into  the  aisle  along  which  they  had  passed,  and  he 
wheeled  about,  saying  in  a  voice  of  command  which  was 


BARRIERS   BURNED   AWAY  325 

audible  above  the  crashing  and  roaring,  "Come!  this 
way  ! " 

As  he  did  so,  leading  the  way  along  the  left  aisle,  he 
caught  instinctively  at  her  hand,  to  assist  her ;  but  she 
drew  it  back,  and  motioned  for  him  to  proceed.  In 
deed,  her  voice  could  hardly  have  been  heard,  amid 
the  uproar. 

At  this  moment,  the  tower  or  cupola  of  the  rotunda 
gave  way,  its  supports  having  yielded  to  the  flames,  and 
came  hurtling,  booming  down,  into  the  middle  of  the 
church,  sending  a  cloud  of  smoke  and  dust  and  sparks 
in  every  direction.  With  a  glance  back  at  her,  he  led 
the  way  along  the  aisle,  fearful  each  moment  lest  the 
part  of  the  ceiling  over  their  heads  should  come  crash 
ing  down,  or  that  some  flaming  brand  should  fall  upon 
her  and  ignite  her  clothing.  As  for  himself,  he  had  no 
thought  of  personal  peril.  His  love  for  that  lithe,  dar 
ing,  determined  woman,  following  him,  was  too  great  to 
leave  room  for  self-anxiety.  He  strode  on,  each  moment 
glancing  behind,  and  occasionally  stooping  and  lifting 
aside  some  obstructing  debris.  Close  upon  him  she 
came,  her  face  white,  her  lips  compressed,  one  hand 
holding  up  her  skirt  and  the  other  clutching  tightly  the 
little  volume  at  her  breast. 

Oh,  it  seemed  a  mile  —  the  length  of  the  church  !  The 
smoke  was  not  dense  now,  and  the  reason  for  it  was  all 
too  evident  when  they  reached  the  door.  But  just  be 
fore  this  point  was  gained,  a  window  over  their  heads 
gave  way  and  came  toppling  down  —  heavy  frame  and 
all  —  and  dashed  itself  into  fragments  among  the  pews 
beside  them.  Pieces  of  shattered  glass  smote  them  in 
the  face.  The  din  was  terrible.  The  shock  was  too 
great  for  feminine  nerves ;  and  Carnaquay,  whose  eyes 
were  everywhere,  saw  Mrs.  Guthrie  totter  and  begin  to 
sink  toward  the  floor.  "  Adeline  !  Adeline  !  "  he  gasped, 


326  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

and  in  an  instant  had  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  not  able 
longer  to  resist  or  resent. 

He  caught  the  little  book,  innocent  cause  of  all  this 
strain  and  peril,  and  hastily  thrust  it  into  his  pocket. 
Then  he  put  his  strong  arms  about  her,  and  gathered  her 
up  as  if  she  had  been  a  baby.  Even  in  that  moment  of 
impending  danger  he  could  not  help  pressing  his  lips  to 
her  broad  white  forehead,  in  one  passionate  kiss.  Then 
he  strode,  like  a  viking,  across  the  few  intervening  yards 
of  distance,  and  laid  hold  of  the  door-knob. 

He  turned  the  handle,  and  thought  to  easily  open  the 
door  and  bear  his  precious  burden  out  into  safety  ;  but 
the  door  resisted  his  push.  The  knob  turned,  but  the 
door  would  not  yield.  A  pang  of  fear  shot  through 
him.  Could  it  be  locked  ?  Then  he  saw  what  was  the 
difficulty.  By  the  very  slight  yielding  which  the  great 
door  gave  to  his  push,  he  perceived  that  it  was  not  locked, 
and  he  understood,  with  a  quick  comprehension  of  the 
situation,  that  the  door  was  thus  held  firmly  closed  by 
reason  of  the  great  pressure  of  air  which  sought  to  pour 
into  the  building  to  supply  the  vacuum  caused  by  the 
ascending  column  of  heated  air  and  flames.  Firemen 
often  encounter  this  phenomenon. 

For  a  moment  Carnaquay  paused,  and  an  exclamation 
of  horror  burst  from  his  lips.  To  be  shut  in,  like  rats 
in  a  trap !  To  have  death  come,  when  escape  was  so 
near  and  life  so  dear — this  was  more  than  he  could 
bear.  Then  all  his  resolution  came  to  him,  and  his  re 
sourceful  nature  saved  them  both.  There  was  little  time 
for  deliberation.  He  lowered  the  limp  form  of  her 
whom  he  loved,  to  the  floor,  resting  her  gently  against 
the  wall.  Then  like  a  Titan  he  leaped  over  to  the  plat 
form,  where  he  had  so  often  stood  and  held  great  congre 
gations  silent  and  spell-bound.  Oh,  how  far  away  all 
that  life  seemed,  amid  the  hell  of  this  fiery  furnace ! 


BARRIERS   BURNED   AWAY  327 

Mounting  the  platform  at  a  bound,  he  caught  up  one  of 
the  massive  pulpit  chairs,  and  sprang  with  it,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  feather,  back  through  the  hail  of  blazing  embers, 
to  the  door.  He  brandished  it  in  his  powerful  arms, 
and  smote  the  panels  of  the  door.  They  cracked.  Again 
and  again  he  smote,  and  they  splintered  and  gave  away. 
In  a  fury  of  passion  he  smashed  panels  and  -framework, 
and  the  cool  stream  of  air,  pouring  through,  seemed  like 
a  current  of  icy  water  on  his  flaming  face. 

Again  he  seized  the  handle  of  the  now  wrecked  door, 
and  it  yielded,  as  he  pushed.  Then,  with  a  stifled  prayer 
of  thankfulness,  —  one  of  the  few  real  prayers  he  had 
ever  known  how  to  utter,  —  he  turned  toward  his  fair 
burden,  now  weakly  trying  to  rise.  "  Adeline,  Adeline," 
he  murmured  in  her  ear,  as  he  once  more  caught  up  her 
unresisting  form  to  his  breast.  "  Thank  God,  you  are 
safe !  "  and  he  now  easily  pushed  wide  open  the  great 
wrecked  door,  and  carried  her  out,  and  she  silently  wept 
on  his  shoulder,  and  spoke  no  word. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

"TILL  DEATH  us  DO  PART" 

"  Then  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was  ;  and  the 
spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave  it."  —  Ecclesiastes  xii.  7. 

THE  same  day  that  brought  together,  into  confessed 
heart  relationships,  the  two  persons  whose  paths  had 
been  so  long  converging,  beheld  also  the  sundering  of 
two  lives,  which  had  quietly  reached  a  unity  of  silent 
sympathy,  rarely  surpassed  by  human  wills,  amid  human 
habits  of  daily  life.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  that 
saw  Emmanuel  Church  —  first  being  kindled  by  Matilda 
Fifield's  clumsy  hand  —  offer  itself  to  heaven  in  a  spasm 
of  fiery  aspiration,  as  if  in  atonement  for  the  unlighted 
altar  which  had  so  long  lain  cold  and  dead  beneath  its 
roof — on  that  same  day  Uncle  Ben  was  sitting  in 
attendance,  dumb,  faithful  attendance,  on  his  old  friend 
and  new  wife.  For  the  poor  decrepit  old  soul,  with  the 
greenish  locks,  was  ill  unto  death.  This  marriage  had 
made  almost  no  difference  to  the  two  old  people,  in  their 
round  of  accustomed  actions.  Whether  alone  or  in  the 
presence  of  other  people,  Uncle  Ben  always  addressed 
his  old  friend  as  "  Elviry,"  and  spoke  of  her  to  others 
as  "  Mis'  "  Snow.  The  force  of  habit  was  strong,  well- 
nigh  unbreakable  now.  She,  for  her  part,  throughout 
this  "  state  of  matrimony,"  as  the  marriage  service  puts 
it,  which  had  continued  several  months,  always  spoke  to 
her  new  husband,  and  of  him,  as  "  Benjamin."  Uncle 
Ben  really  lived  in  his  garret  over  the  carpenter's  shop, 
v.'ith  his  cats  and  his  new  violin  ;  but  he  made  day-long 

328 


"TILL  DEATH   US   DO   PART"  329 

visits  to  the  other  house,  with  great  regularity,  and 
there  he  alternated  violin  playing  (on  his  old  instrument) 
with  a  little  quiet  rug  braiding,  which  he  carried  on  as 
simply  and  earnestly  as  ever. 

There  was  a  new  contentment  in  the  old  woman's 
heart,  in  those  days,  and  her  wish  to  be  legally  married 
to  Benjamin  was  justified.  Occasionally  she  glanced  at 
the  grim  picture  of  the  turgid  tyrant  on  the  wall,  with 
a  deprecatory  expression,  and  fancied  that  his  stern 
features  had  relaxed  a  little  —  they  never  had  relaxed 
much  —  in  token  of  approval. 

As  for  the  "help,"  in  the  family,  the  spinsters  still 
kept  up  their  attitude  of  superior  virtue,  and  treated 
Uncle  Ben  with  studied  neglect  (although  he  was 
never  aware  of  it,  and  they  thereby  lost  the  keen  edge 
of  their  virtuous  joy).  One  of  the  maids,  however, 
was  a  widow,  and  she  took  a  tolerant  and  sympathetic 
view  of  the  situation,  and  privately  packed  hampers  of 
good  food  for  Uncle  Ben's  consumption  with  his  cats, 
in  the  morning  hours  of  the  garret. 

Thus  did  the  old  man  lead  his  gentle  "  Dr.  Jekyl  and 
Mr.  Hyde"  existence;  and,  to  the  end,  his  neighbors 
near  the  garret  never  knew  about  his  belated  experi 
ment  in  wedded  life ;  his  plunge  into  the  sea  of  matri 
mony  made  so  mild  a  splash  that  few  heard  or  felt  it. 

But  all  this  twilight  of  content  was  to  end.  The 
honeymoon,  pale  and  neutral  as  it  had  been,  was  fading 
into  deeper  shadow.  Stretched  upon  a  couch  in  the 
sitting  room  lay  "  Mis'  "  Snow,  and  near  her  sat  Uncle 
Ben.  She  had  suffered  a  stroke  of  paralysis,  a  week 
before,  but  had  partially  recovered,  and  was  now  able 
to  move  about,  with  help,  and  could  talk,  though  imper 
fectly.  On  this  afternoon,  however,  she  grew  very 
feeble,  and  remained  lying  down.  Uncle  Ben  was  busy, 
in  his  always  moderate  way,  on  a  rug  which  was  to  be 


330  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

sold  to  the  hardware  man  for  one  dollar  ;  and  certainly, 
considering  the  number  of  the  colors  in  the  fabric,  it 
was  well  worth  the  money. 

The  wrinkled  old  face,  near  him,  seemed  troubled,  and 
the  faded  gray  eyes  looked  over  at  him  from  time  to 
time  with  an  appealing  expression.  Presently  she  said  : 
"  Benjamin,  I  wish  you'd  play  something.  I  always  like 
to  hear  you  play." 

Uncle  Ben  paused  in  his  weaving,  waited  to  give  the 
suggestion  time  to  percolate  through  all  the  corners  of 
his  brain,  then  arose,  laid  aside  his  work,  and  took  his 
violin.  After  playing  two  or  three  familiar  old  songs 
and  hymns,  he  stopped  to  tune  his  violin.  "  Seems  ter 
me  I  never  see  this  fiddle  run  down  so  before.  I  cal'late 
ez  haow  that  'ar  string  won't  stan'  much  more  screwin' 
up." 

"  Benjamin,"  said  his  wife,  and  hesitated  before  go 
ing  on.  "Benjamin,  I've  been  kinder  jealous  of  that 
fiddle  of  yours  sometimes ;  but  I  don't  feel  so  no 
longer." 

Uncle  Ben  offered  no  reply,  and  the  old  woman  went 
on,  slowly,  "I've  been  wonderin'  how  you'd  git  along 
after  —  after  I  pass  over,  Benjamin." 

The  old  man  saw  that  she  was  in  sad  earnest,  and  he 
began  to  show  disturbance,  himself.  "  Naow  there, 
Elviry,  I  wouldn't  take  on  thet  way.  You  ain't  a-gwine 
ter  pass  over  jistyit,  I  reckin." 

She  slowly  shook  her  head,  and  reached  out  her  well 
and  manageable  hand  to  him.  This  need  of  his  honest 
grasp  she  had  rarely  manifested ;  but  now  she  seemed 
eager  to  have  him  close  beside  her.  He  drew  his  chair 
over,  and  the  two  sat  clasping  hands  for  several  minutes. 
It  seemed  to  comfort  the  old  soul ;  and  she  rested,  with 
closed  eyes,  and  a  faint  smile  of  content  on  her  face. 

"  Seems  to  bring  up  the  old  times,  Benjamin,  when  I 


"TILL  DEATH  US  DO   PART"  331 

shut  my  eyes  and  hold  your  hand.  What  good  times 
them  was  !  Them  times  when  we  used  ter  drive  over 
ter  the  huskin's  and  the  bees,  over  to  Sandersville.  And 
that  great  party  that  Squire  Newbegin  gave,  over  to  the 
Corners.  Cyrus  drove  me  over.  Don't  you  remember, 
Benjamin  ? " 

"  Er  —  yaas — er  —  yaas,  I  do,"  responded  Uncle 
Ben.  "  Only  I  didn't  hev  no  gret  ov  a  time  merself, 
'cause  I  wuz  nearly  froze,  outside,  toward  the  break-up 
of  the  party,  a-holdin'  the  hoss  an'  waitin'  for  you  folks 
to  come  aout." 

He  spoke  calmly,  bearing  no  malice  or  envy,  in  retro 
spect,  as  he  had  not  borne  it  in  the  frigid  reality,  fifty 
years  before.  His  words  reminded  the  old  woman  of 
the  difference  which  had  existed  socially  between  them, 
in  the  old  days,  a  chasm  of  not  great  breadth  at  its 
widest,  and  now  quite  bridged  over. 

"  Benjamin,"  she  said,  after  a  little,  looking  again  at 
him  with  a  new  expression  of  concern,  "  Benjamin,  was 
you  ever  converted  ?  " 

The  old  man  gave  the  unexpected  subject  his  candid 
consideration,  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  rejoined, 
"  Waal  naow,  Elviry,  I  can't  say  ez  I've  been  a  perfesser, 
but —  but  I've  be'n  a  prayin'  man,  these  many  years." 

He  spoke  almost  timidly ;  and  then  as  she  ventured 
no  comment,  he  made  bold  to  go  on.  "  I  never  made 
much  sense  o'  some  o'  them  revival  notions,  Elviry,  but 
I've  seen  —  I've  seen  the  Lord,  Elviry  —  hed  Him  clus 
ter  me  many  a  time." 

"  But  wa'n't  there  a  first  time,  Benjamin  ?  a  first 
time,  when  you  felt  you  was  saved  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  with  a  real  anxiety  in  her  aged 
face,  and  pressed  his  hand  as  she  spoke.  And  the  old 
man  replied  firmly,  "  I  alms  felt  safe  enough,  I  guess, 
'cause  I  knowed  thet  the  Lord  wuz  a-lookin'  after 


332  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

things,  but  I  reck'lect  the  first  time  I  seed  Him ;  it  wuz 
when  I  wuz  a-singin'  '  Majesty,'  in  the  choir-seats,  over 
ter  North  Wakefield.  It  wuz  powerful,  thet  'ar  experi 
ence  was,  an'  I  didn't  jes'  believe  anybody  else  hed  ever 
felt  Him  so  powerful,  until  I  cum  across  thet  story  in 
the  Bible,  'bout  Saul  a-goin'  off  ter  Damascus  ter  perse 
cute.  I  hed  read  it  before,  but  it  hadn't  meant  anything 
ter  me ;  but  after  thet  day  and  '  Majesty,'  I  kinder 
reck'n'd  ez  Paul  hed  seen  it  all,  'bout  ez  I  hed.  An'  — 
an'  sence  then,  sometimes  ez  I'm  a-playin'  suthin'  on  the 
fiddle,  I  git  a  kind  er  glimpse  er  the  same  thing,  an' 
then  I  know  thet  the  Lord  is  a-runnin'  things  all  right. 
I  can't  quite  explain  it,  Elviry,  any  further  than 
that,"  he  continued  helplessly ;  "  except  ter  say  thet 
I  guess  the  Psalmist  hit  it  'baout  right  when  he 
said,  '  Thou  coverest  thyself  with  light,  ez  with  a 
garment.' " 

"Yes,  yes,"  responded  his  wife,  with  sudden  anima 
tion.  "That's  about  the  truth  of  it.  And,  Benjamin, 
I  guess  heaven  is  full  of  that  same  light.  Leastways," 
she  added  more  quietly,  "  I  shall  know  all  about  it 
soon." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  offering  some  protest,  at  her 
speaking  thus  about  going,  but  she  shook  her  head  and 
continued,  "  I  hope,  Benjamin,  that  there  will  be  violins 
in  heaven,  because  then  you  will  enjoy  yourself  so 
much;  you  see,  Benjamin — I  —  I  have  thought  about 
this  a  good  deal,  and  you  know  I  —  I  shall  have  —  I 
shall  have  —  him  (pointing  toward  the  portrait  on  the 
wall),  and  you  —  you  won't  have  —  well,  we'll  be  friends, 
anyhow,  won't  we,  Benjamin  ?  " 

"  Sartin !  sartin  sure!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Ben,  with 
confidence.  Then  he  took  up  the  subject  of  violins  in 
heaven.  "I've  figgered  on  thet  idee  consider'ble,"  he 
said,  in  his  candid,  meditative  way.  "An'  it  kinder 


"TILL  DEATH  US   DO  PART"  333 

stumps  me.  Yer  see,  Elviry,  ter  hev  fiddles,  yer  hev 
ter  hev  catgut;  and  — 

"  But,"  interrupted  the  sick  woman,  helpfully,  "  don't 
you  think  cats  will  live  forever,  Benjamin  ?  You  know 
you  do.  I've  heard  you  say  so." 

"  Yaas,  yaas,"  responded  the  old  man,  cautiously. 
"  But  ef  cats  gits  ter  heaven,  they'll  be  live  cats,  yer 
know  —  allus  alive;  an'  then,  Elviry,  where's  yer  catgut 
a-comin'  from  ?  " 

There  was  no  reply  to  this  perplexing  question,  and 
Uncle  Ben's  brow  became  more  and  more  clouded.  But 
presently  he  seemed  to  realize  that  he  was  adding,  un 
necessarily,  a  gloom  to  the  rather  dark  conversation,  and 
he  broke  out  cheerfully,  "  But  there,  Elviry  !  I  reckin 
thet  the  Almighty  kin  fix  up  a  little  thing  like  thet." 
And  he  grasped  his  beloved  violin  resolutely,  as  if  to 
make  sure  of  it  now,  and  began  playing,  "  When  I  can 
read  my  title  clear." 

Scarcely  had  he  ended  the  melody,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  the  maid  ushered  in  the  doctor.  He  was  a 
young  man,  of  good  address,  with  a  general  theory  of 
cheering  up  his  patients  ;  and  he  chatted  on,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  both  old  people,  and  perfunctorily  tried  his 
patient's  waning  pulse.  Then  he  asked  about  her  vari 
ous  "  feelings,"  and  listened,  as  interestedly  as  he  could, 
to  a  long  recital  of  pains  and  aches.  Afterward  he 
examined  the  several  bottles  and  boxes,  which  contained 
the  medicines  he  had  prescribed.  In  doing  this  he 
carried  one  of  the  vials  over  to  the  light,  nearer  the 
window,  and  summoned  Uncle  Ben  to  inspect  it ;  but 
the  request  for  advice  was  merely  a  blind  ;  the  physician 
used  this  method  of  getting  a  word  or  two  alone  with 
the  old  man,  and  told  him  how  very  feeble  the  sick 
woman  was,  and  that  she  might  "  pass  away  "  at  any 
time.  Though  outwardly  unmoved,  Uncle  Ben  was 


334  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

really  much  shaken  by  the  dread  words.  He  stared 
blankly,  and  tottered  rather  than  walked  back  across 
the  room. 

The  physician  was  correct  in  his  judgment.  He 
knew,  as  well  as  did  the  sinking  old  woman,  that  her 
strength  was  ebbing ;  but  he  spoke  encouragingly,  and 
at  the  end  of  his  call,  as  he  withdrew,  he  promised  to 
come  again  early  in  the  morning. 

After  his  departure  there  was  a  long  silence.  The 
patient  was  exhausted  by  her  efforts  to  narrate  her 
symptoms,  and  Uncle  Ben  had  no  special  suggestions 
to  offer.  "  Benjamin,"  she  said  feebly,  after  a  while, 
"you  may  empty  out  a  little  of  that  medicine  into  the 
sink,  there  in  the  entry,  and  —  and,  Benjamin  —  jest 
throw  away  four  of  them  pills." 

Uncle  Ben's  face  indicated  a  mild  surprise,  but  he  set 
about  executing  her  commands.  When  he  returned  to 
her  side,  she  explained  as  well  as  she  could,  poor  soul : 
"I  —  I  don't  want  to  hurt  his  feelings,  and  I  know 
that  them  pills  and  that  medicine  don't  do  me  a  mite 
of  good ;  so  I  guess  that's  the  best  way  to  dispose 
of  'em." 

Presently  she  looked  up  at  her  old  friend  and  asked, 
so  feebly  that  he  could  hardly  hear  her,  "Benjamin,  it's 
awful  good  to  have  you  with  me.  You've  been  — you've 
been  —  a  good  —  husband  to  me,  Benjamin." 

The  word  "  husband "  came  reluctantly  from  the 
colorless  lips;  and  she  turned,  as  she  spoke  it,  toward 
the  portrait  on  the  wall.  Then  she  sighed,  and  her  eyes 
closed  slowly.  "  Benjamin,  dear,"  she  asked,  with  eyes 
still  closed,  "  do  you  suppose  —  do  you  suppose  they 
will  call  me — 'Mrs.  Snow,'  in  heaven?  Or  will  they 
call  me  — '  Mrs.  Birch  '  ?  " 

Uncle  Ben  was  terribly  put  to  it  for  a  suitable  an 
swer.  He  groaned  slightly,  as  he  clumsily  but  tenderly 


"TILL   DEATH   US   DO   PART"  335 

arranged  her  pillow,  and  answered  with  a  happy  inspira 
tion,  quite  uncommon  with  him,  "  I  reckin,  Elviry,  ez 
haow  we'll  all  hev  new  names  up  there ;  don't  you 
think  so  ?  " 

A  slight  pressure  of  the  hand  was  the  dying  woman's 
response,  and  in  a  few  moments  she  whispered  :  "  I  feel 

—  sleepy.     I  —  I   think  I  will  just  take  a  little  nap." 
And  she  relaxed  her  grasp,  and  rested  quietly,  a  long 
time. 

The  day  was  nearing  its  close.  The  room  was  be 
coming  shrouded  with  shadows,  and  the  lights  began  to 
appear  in  the  streets,  and  in  the  houses  opposite.  Uncle 
Ben  had  a  feeling  that  the  hour  was  a  solemn  one,  and 
he  sat,  like  a  patient  old  soldier,  at  his  post ;  and  if  the 
room  had  been  lighter,  you  might  have  seen  one  great 
tear  after  another  steal  out  from  beneath  his  eyelids 
and  trickle  unheeded  down  his  cheeks.  An  hour  passed, 
and  still  the  old  woman  remained  silent,  her  breast  heav 
ing  slightly,  at  longer  and  longer  intervals.  Then  sud 
denly  she  started  up  and  exclaimed  :  "  I  see — I  see — a 
great  light.  Oh,  Benjamin,  a  —  great  —  light."  And 
in  a  moment,  more  quietly,  reaching  out  for  his  hand : 
"Play  —  play  something,  Benjamin!  Something  soft 

—  and    sweet  —  like  —  like   that  other  music   I   hear." 
And  Uncle  Ben,  with  an  awful  desolation  creeping 

over  his  aged  heart,  took  up  his  violin  softly  and  played 
"  O  rest  in  the  Lord !  "  And  the  old  violin  sang  its 
comforting  message,  tenderly,  and  the  furrowed  face  on 
the  pillow  seemed  to  grow  smoother  and  smoother,  and 
at  last  the  rest  came  —  the  peace  of  God ;  and  poor  old 
Uncle  Ben  sank  on  his  knees,  beside  the  couch,  and 
sobbed  and  prayed,  and  sobbed  and  prayed. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

HIS    SIN    FOUND    HIM    OUT 

"  Then  goeth  he  and  taketh  unto  him  seven  other  spirits  more 
wicked  than  himself;  and  they  enter  in,  and  dwell  there:  and  the 
last  state  of  that  man  is  worse  than  the  first.''  —  Luke  xi.  26. 

So  Emmanuel  Church  lay,  a  heap  of  ruins,  and  a 
great  weight  of  responsibility  rested  upon  the  persons 
who  composed  the  Board  of  Trustees.  To  the  pastor  of 
the  church  the  blow  had  been  severe  and  the  strain  very 
great.  Yet,  deeply  concerned  as  Ronald  Carnaquay  was, 
the  next  day,  as  he  stood  near  the  smouldering  heap,  con 
cerned  for  the  welfare  of  the  society,  he  recognized  in 
his  heart  one  deeper  anxiety  still,  and  that  was  an  anxi 
ety  about  the  \voman  whom  he  had  borne  in  his  arms 
out  of  the  rain  of  fire  the  day  before.  He  could  not 
forget  the  terror  and  yet  the  ecstasy  of  the  perilous 
journey  across  the  area  of  the  church  ;  and,  as  he  gazed 
now  over  the  unsightly  rubbish,  he  found  himself  reflect 
ing:  "There — just  behind  that  twisted  girder — was  the 
door,  and  there  she  and  I  entered.  And  down  along 
yonder  line  of  oricks  and  mortar  we  hurried,  to  reach 
her  pew.  Where  was  that  pew  ?  Exactly  where  ? 
Probably  under  that  heap  of  charred  beams.  And 
from  that  point,"  he  continued,  following  the  track  by 
eye  and  by  memory,  "  we  started  along  this  side,  she 
keeping  close  after  me."  He  recalled  the  contour  of 
that  determined  little  face,  as  he  had  glanced  back  at 
her  from  moment  to  moment.  "  On  we  fought  our 
way,  until  the  door  was  again  reached.  Just  over  there! " 

336 


HIS  SIN    FOUND   HIM  OUT  337 

The  partially  molten  organ-pipes  pushed  up  out  of  the 
debris  and  helped  to  mark  the  place.  Then  came  that 
minute  of  peril,  of  despair.  And  there  must  be  the 
very  corner  where  he  laid  down  his  precious  burden  ; 
then  a  dash  for  the  platform  in  front  of  the  organ,  and 
a  quick  run  back  to  the  door,  a  few  strong  blows  with 
the  massive  chair,  and  then  that  cooling  fresh  air.  After 
that,  a  gathering  up  of  the  dear,  fainting  form,  and  a  few 
strides  through  the  doorway  —  and  safety. 

Often  as  the  place  had  been  a  scene  of  oratorical  tri 
umph  to  him,  it  now  recalled  no  "  waiting  congrega 
tion,"  hanging  in  suspense  upon  his  words ;  it  recalled 
no  joyous  elation  of  spirit,  such  as  he  often  had  experi 
enced  on  that  platform ;  it  recalled  only  one  memory 
—  the  memory  of  his  struggle,  with  her  in  his  arms,  with 
her  close  against  his  heart  —  a  struggle  for  her  life  and 
her  love. 

He  tried  to  remember  her  exact  manner  toward  him. 
He  could  see  again  her  face,  at  first  defiant  and  de 
termined,  then  pale  and  anxious,  then  with  a  faint 
expression  of  entreaty  in  it ;  and  finally  he  was  almost 
certain  that  the  soft  arm  about  his  neck  —  which  he 
could  feel,  even  now,  and  thrilled  as  he  felt  it  —  had  a 
clinging  trustfulness  in  it,  which  meant  more  than  her 
audacious  lips  or  her  challenging  eyes  had  ever  expressed. 

He  went,  of  course,  that  evening,  to  inquire  about  her 
welfare,  and  was  told  that  she  was  exhausted,  and  unable 
to  see  anybody.  The  next  day  he  went  again,  and  sent 
up  some  flowers  to  her  —  some  Jacqueminot  roses,  as  red 
as  the  tint  in  her  full,  rounded  cheeks.  Again  the  next 
day,  and  a  message  came  down  to  him  from  her, 
thanking  him  for  "saving"  her  from  the  "awful  conse 
quences"  of  her  "wilful  conduct." 

He  read  those  words  over  and  over.  They  seemed  to 
indicate  a  change  of  manner,  if  not  a  change  of  heart ; 


338  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

possibly  that  last ;  he  longed  to  believe  so.  "  It  is  a 
clear  case,"  he  said,  addressing  himself  in  an  undertone, 
as  he  left  the  house.  "You  are  hard  hit,  Carnaquay. 
You  can't  blink  the  plain  fact.  You  love  this  little 
piece  of  teasing  impudence,  this  taunting,  contemptuous 
young  woman,  more  than  you  love  all  else  in  the  world." 
Then  he  ended  his  soliloquy  with  a  groan ;  for  the 
outcome  was  not  evident. 

He  walked  from  Mrs.  Guthrie's  house  to  the  house 
of  Dr.  Mixer,  where  a  meeting  of  the  trustees  had  been 
appointed.  Immediate  steps  must  of  course  be  taken, 
toward  rebuilding.  When  Carnaquay  entered,  all  the 
members  of  the  board  were  there,  except  Mr.  Wilbur 
Blaney. 

Dr.  Mixer  called  them  to  order,  and  began  by  remark 
ing  upon  Blaney's  absence.  There  was  one  person 
among  their  number  who  could  have  explained  his 
absence,  but  that  man,  Thomas  Marshall,  remained  for 
the  time  silent.  Blaney,  had  he  been  present,  would 
have  been  expected  to  start  the  discussion ;  but  as  he 
was  not  visible  or  audible,  Dr.  Mixer  was  obliged  to 
take  the  initiative.  He  began  by  briefly  mentioning  the 
fact  of  the  disastrous  fire,  then  referred  to  the  prosperous 
condition  of  the  society,  and  then,  in  his  deliberate  and 
oily  way,  he  spoke  of  "rebuilding,"  as  the  real  problem 
before  them.  "  We  have  cause  to  rejoice,  brethren,"  he 
said,  "  that  although  we  have  been  cast  down,  we  have 
not  been  destroyed ;  we  sorrow,  but  not  as  those  without 
hope!" 

Here  Mr.  Pidge  wriggled  with  joy,  and  piped  out  a 
faint  "  Amen  "  ;  for  he  knew  that  Dr.  Mixer,  and  he, 
and  perhaps  others  present,  were  thinking  of  the  heavy 
insurance  that  the  society  carried. 

"  I  may  also  refer  to  the  fact  here,  in  this  confidential 
meeting,"  continued  the  chairman-host,  with  a  sly  twinkle 


HIS   SIN    FOUND   HIM   OUT  339 

of  his  specious  eyes,  "  that  the  value  of  our  church 
property  has  not,  at  least,  appreciated,  of  late,  by  reason 
of  the  building  of  that  canning  factory  on  the  lot  next 
to  us ;  also,  that  extensive  repairs  were  considered 
advisable  by  us  at  our  last  meeting." 

He  had  an  air  of  insinuating  shrewdness,  on  his  great 
full  red  face  as  he  spoke,  and  now  waited  for  remarks 
from  others.  ''What  I  want  to  know,"  spoke  up  one 
of  the  trustees,  "is  just  how  much  insurance  we  have 
been  carrying." 

This  was  the  moment  for  Mr.  Pidge  to  rise  and  pro 
duce  a  memorandum-book.  He  and  Dr.  Mixer  had 
talked  it  all  over  beforehand.  "  I  will  read  to  you, 
gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pidge,  in  his  shrill  voice,  run 
ning  his  freckled  fingers  up  through  his  fiery  fringe  of 
hair  as  he  arose,  "the  list  of  companies,  and  amounts 
due  from  each." 

It  was  one  of  those  moments  of  temporary  supremacy 
which  came  to  the  mechanically  minded  little  man,  occa 
sionally,  and  spread  a  general  warmth  throughout  his 
slender  and  somewhat  anaemic  anatomy.  But,  at  this 
particular  time,  he  was  doomed  to  meet  surprise,  and 
disappointment,  and  despair,  in  quick  succession.  "  Mr. 
Chairman,"  spoke  a  deep  bass  voice ;  and  Mr.  Marshall 
arose,  and  Mr.  Pidge  paused,  note-book  in  hand. 

"Mr.  Chairman,  I  am  sorry  —  to  bring  —  bad  news 
hereto-night  —  very  bad  news."  The  mill-owner's  voice 
was  labored  and  almost  stammering,  and  he  shifted 
from  one  foot  to  the  other.  But  his  honest  face  was 
determined,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  some  point  on 
the  opposite  wall.  "  I  think  it  will  be  only  a  waste  of 
time  for  Mr.  Pidge  to  read  that  list  of  insurance  policies, 
because  —  because —  the  insurance  in  them  is  nearly  all 
bogus,  and  we  have  hardly  any  insurance  at  all." 

Everybody  stared  and  waited ;  even  Dr.  Mixer's  face 


340  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

was  bereft  of  its  customary  commercial  smile,  and  the 
other  members  of  the  board  held  their  breath,  in  wonder 
and  alarm.  Then  Mr.  Marshall,  with  a  deep  sigh  which 
was  almost  a  groan,  so  burdened  did  he  feel,  went 
on.  "  The  story,  in  a  nutshell,  is  this,"  he  said  :  "  our 
church  property  was  insured  through  Wilbur  Blaney,  and 
he  has  not  insured  it  at  all,  has  returned  forged  forms 
of  policies  to  our  clerk,  Mr.  Pidge,  and  to-night  our 
society  hasn't  more  than  a  thousand  or  two  dollars,  to 
meet  its  loss  with." 

He  stopped  and  pulled  out  his  handkerchief,  to  wipe 
his  face,  for  he  was  perspiring  furiously,  although  the 
temperature  of  the  room  was  not  high. 

"  Where  is  Blaney  ?  "  asked  somebody,  sharply.  And 
several  voices  echoed  the  inquiry. 

Mr.  Marshall  at  once  replied :  "  I  wish  I  knew.  He 
has  run  away.  I  got  a  list  of  these  policies  from  Mr. 
Pidge,  yesterday,  and  began  looking  them  up  ;  for  I  had 
held  suspicions  of  Blaney,  for  some  time.  As  soon  as 
I  had  discovered  the  bogus  quality  of  the  first  two, 
without  waiting  for  others,  I  took  a  policeman  and  went 
to  Blaney's  office  and  then  to  his  house ;  but  he  was 
gone.  I  at  once  informed  the  city  marshal,  and  he 
has  spared  no  effort  to  run  the  man  down.  But  as  yet 
there  is  no  clew  to  work  upon.  I  next  looked  up  the 
other  policies,  and  only  one  or  two  very  small  ones  are 
sound.  The  sum  of  the  matter  is,  so  far  as  I  can  find 
out,  that  Blaney  has  swindled  a  good  many  people,  by 
this  rather  desperate  kind  of  deception ;  he  has  forged 
policies  on  the  best  risks,  has  pocketed  premiums,  and 
insanely  trusted  to  luck  not  to  have  one  of  his  risks 
burned." 

The  mill-owner  waited  a  moment,  and  then  sat  down. 
It  was  a  long  speech  for  him ;  but,  few  speakers  ever 
moved  their  hearers  more  deeply  than  had  he.  "  I  saw 


HIS  SIN   FOUND   HIM   OUT  341 

Blaney  at  the  fire,"  exclaimed  one  member  of  the  board. 
And  several  others  verified  the  statement.  All  recol 
lected,  too,  that  he  was  in  a  dreadful  state  of  excitement. 
Then  he  had  disappeared,  and  might  now  be  thousands 
of  miles  away  —  as  indeed  he  was. 

The  orderly  form  of  the  meeting  was  now  much  dis 
turbed.  Carnaquay  remained  silent.  He  saw  what  the 
tremendous  import  of  this  embezzlement  was,  for  him. 
To  stand  by  the  society,  and  rebuild,  with  a  large  insur 
ance,  was  one  thing;  to  do  the  same  when  there  was 
practically  no  insurance  money,  and  to  raise  the  needed 
sum  by  subscription,  and  still  hold  the  society  together 
—  that  was  a  very  different  prospect,  and  somewhat 
appalling.  But  Ronald  Carnaquay,  essentially  commer 
cial  as  he  was,  had  good  sound  notions  of  commercial 
honor  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  his  decision  was  silently 
made,  and  he  awaited  developments. 

These  came  soon.  After  Mr.  Marshall  had  told  about 
Blaney's  ownership  of  the  liquor  saloon  and  house,  on 
the  North  Side,  and  had  expressed  his  profound  regret 
that  he  had  allowed  that  surprising  discovery  to  slip 
from  his  mind,  he  cleared  his  throat  and  said,  "  I  wish 
to  pledge  myself  for  five  thousand  dollars,  toward  the 
rebuilding  of  our  church,  either  on  its  present  location 
or  elsewhere."  Then  he  seemed  somewhat  relieved. 

The  conversation  became  general  and  was  very  ani 
mated.  Finally  Carnaquay's  clear  business  head  made 
itself  felt.  He  requested  Dr.  Mixer  to  call  the  meeting 
to  order.  The  worthy  "  Doctor  "  was  in  a  confused  state 
of  mind,  but  managed  to  follow  the  suggestion.  He 
foresaw  extensive  demands  on  his  own  pocket-book  ;  and 
at  his  age  he  was  not  as  ready  to  lay  good  money  "  on 
the  altar,"  as  he  had  been  in  younger  though  less  pros 
perous  and  less  avaricious  days. 

Carnaquay  spoke   calmly  and   clearly,  and    affirmed 


342  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

his  readiness  to  stand  by  the  society,  if  they  so  desired  ; 
and  astounded  one  or  two  of  the  members  of  the  board 
—  though  not  all  — by  pledging  himself  to  one  thousand 
dollars  of  subscription,  toward  the  new  church. 

After  him  several  others,  having  caught  the  spirit  of 
the  hour,  made  generous  pledges  ;  and  last  of  all  Dr. 
Mixer,  groaning  inwardly,  and  mentally  calculating  how 
many  sales  of  cases  of  "  Emollient  "  it  would  take  to  off 
set  the  gift,  stated  that  he  would  be  responsible  for  two 
thousand  dollars. 

As  for  Mr.  Pidge,  poor  Mr.  Pidge,  shrinking  and  gasp 
ing  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  partially  hidden  behind  a 
bronze  Venus,  it  was  not  the  kind  of  occasion  suited  to 
his  nature.  He  had  little  or  no  money,  poor  fellow,  and 
his  heart  sank  within  him,  as  he  reflected  on  the  abyss 
of  insolvency  over  which  he  had  so  calmly  lived  his 
clerkly  life.  He  fancied  that  he  was  more  blamed  and 
hated  by  his  fellow-members  than  he  really  was,  be 
cause  he  did  not  realize  that  they  never  regarded  him 
as  much  more  than  a  recording  machine ;  they  did  not 
expect  business  sagacity  from  him,  and  therefore  did 
not  greatly  blame  him  when  he  was  found  to  lack  it. 
Accordingly,  he  kept  out  of  sight  as  best  he  could,  feel 
ing  like  a  criminal ;  and  the  bronze  Venus  was  so  occu 
pied  with  her  own  insufficient  drapery  that  she  did  not 
notice  him ;  and  thus  once  more,  as  often  before,  Art 
remained  strictly  and  impassively  unmoral,  and  conscious 
Sin  sheltered  itself  behind  her. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

"AT    BEST    A    CONTRADICTION    STILL" 

"  He  sought,  with  well-practised  and  delicate  art, 
To  surprise,  from  Lucille,  the  true  state  of  her  heart ; 
But  his  efforts  were  vain,  and  the  woman,  as  ever, 
More  adroit  than  the  man,  baffled  every  endeavour." 

—  OWEN  MEREDITH. 

HAD  anybody  asked  Ronald  Carnaquay  if  he  under 
stood  human  nature,  he  would  probably  have  replied, 
after  a  certain  amount  of  precautionary  explanation, 
that  he  did,  and  in  so  replying  would  have  meant, 
unconsciously,  "masculine  human  nature";  but,  had 
his  questioner  inquired,  more  definitely,  if  he  understood 
feminine  human  nature,  the  reverend  gentleman  very 
likely  would  have  hesitated,  at  least  a  few  moments. 
Still,  on  reflection,  he  might  have  ventured  a  "  yes  "  to 
even  that  inquiry ;  for,  had  he  not  preached  sermons 
on  "marriage,"  and  "the  choice  of  a  helpmeet,"  and 
"  duties  of  mothers,"  and  "  the  true  home,"  and  the 
like  ?  All  of  these  sermons  presupposed  a  knowledge 
of  various  phases  of  feminine  aims  and  motives  and 
even  faults.  But,  in  all  his  preparation  of  these  and 
similar  discourses,  the  Rev.  Ronald  Carnaquay  had 
not  felt  the  doubt  and  self-distrust  which  now  he  felt  as 
he  tried,  with  unprecedented  earnestness  and  even  anxi 
ety,  to  analyze  the  condition  of  one  woman's  heart,  in 
its  attitude  toward  him.  There  was  so  much  more  at 
stake,  now,  than  in  the  preparation  and  delivery  of  his 
confident  sermons.  It  had  mattered  comparatively 

343 


344  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

little  to  him,  in  his  preaching,  whether  he  was  sound 
or  not,  in  his  affirmations  about  feminine  affections  and 
weaknesses  and  duties.  Now  it  was  of  the  deepest  con 
cern  to  him,  that  he  should  read  aright  the  exact  condi 
tion  of  Mrs.  Guthrie's  heart,  both  toward  marriage  in 
general  and  toward  a  particular  marriage  in  which  he 
should  be  one  of  the  contracting  parties. 

"  Marriage  in  general !  "  Ah,  there  was  that  first 
marriage  of  hers !  He  had  learned  what  he  could 
about  it,  and  was  convinced  that  it  was  a  union  of  the 
slenderest  possible  tenuity  —  a  kind,  dreamy  old  scholar, 
anxious  for  the  safety  of  a  pretty  and  charming  ward, 
and  guarding  her  by  the  legal  tie  of  marriage  from 
possible  mistakes  and  unprincipled  adventurers.  Yet 
again,  there  was  that  Bible.  How  fond  she  had  seemed 
to  be  of  it !  What  peril  she  had  dared  for  its  sake ! 
Was  her  conduct  due  to  affection,  or  caprice  ?  He  had 
found  the  book,  in  his  coat-pocket,  after  the  fire,  where 
he  had  hastily  thrust  it,  and  had  carried  it  with  him  to 
her  house  to  return  it ;  then,  on  the  very  steps  of  the 
house,  the  idea  had  seized  him  to  withhold  it,  and  give 
it  to  her  in  person.  He  had  a  feeling  that  he  would 
like  to  see  her  receive  it,  after  she  had  risked  so  much 
to  obtain  it ;  he  might  be  able  to  read,  in  her  manner, 
her  feelings  about  it  and  about  the  one  who  had  given 
it  to  her. 

Thus  he  caught  at  every  straw  which  might  indicate 
what  Mrs.  Guthrie's  feelings  were.  He  must  not  make 
any  mistakes,  when  he  seemed  so  near  the  attainment 
of  his  object.  For  he  realized  enough  about  her  nature 
to  believe  that  she  was  both  wilful  and  intense,  and 
might  suddenly  and  impulsively  take  an  adverse  posi 
tion  with  regard  to  him,  and  afterward  hold  to  it,  in  the 
face  of  all  reason,  and  at  the  cost  of  all  happiness. 

So  he  again  took  the  book,  and  purchased  more  roses, 


"AT   BEST   A   CONTRADICTION    STILL"       345 

and  went  forth  on  his  quest,  feeling  more  irresolution 
than  any  audience  of  a  thousand  souls  had  ever  aroused 
in  him,  and  sure  of  one  thing  only  —  that  he  loved  this 
capricious,  brilliant  woman,  with  all  his  heart,  and  he 
must,  and  he  would  somehow,  win  her. 

Carnaquay  rang  the  door-bell,  and  was  shown  in.  A 
few  minutes  of  waiting  —  she  had  never  kept  him  wait 
ing  long  —  and  Mrs.  Guthrie  entered  the  parlor.  With 
a  quickened  beating  of  his  heart  he  saw  that  she  wore  a 
rose  —  and  a  Jacqueminot,  too  —  one  of  his,  presumably. 

He  advanced,  and  they  shook  hands.  No  attempt 
now  on  his  part,  as  at  their  first  meeting  in  Miss  Met- 
calf's  house,  to  retain  her  hand  one  instant  beyond  the 
conventional  moment.  "  I  called  to  inquire  if  you  have 
recovered  from  the  excitement  of  the  fire,"  he  said,  for 
mally.  "And  also  to  give  you  this  book."  He  extended 
the  volume,  and  watched  her  closely  as  she  took  it. 

"Oh  yes!  the  Bible!"  she  said,  simply  and  sweetly. 
"I  am  glad  to  get  it  again.  It  nearly  cost  —  it  nearly 
cost  us  our  lives." 

He  noted  the  momentary  hesitation  over  the  pronoun, 
and  then  the  use  of  the  plural  "us."  He  was  glad  to  be 
included  or,  rather,  to  have  her  include  him  in  the  book's 
valuation.  "  I  was  fond  of  it,  before,"  she  continued, 
sitting  down  in  a  large  Morris-chair,  "  and  now  it  has 
an  added  value." 

He  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  more  attractive. 
The  same  rosy  tint  was  in  her  cheeks,  though  a  trifle 
fainter,  and  her  eyes  were  brilliantly  alive.  She  seemed 
very  ready  to  talk,  and  the  conversation  naturally  turned 
upon  the  incidents  of  the  conflagration.  He  let  her 
lead,  and  the  play  of  emotions  in  her  expressive  face 
charmed  him  more  than  ever.  She  did  not,  however, 
express  any  anxiety  about  him  ;  not  from  lack  of  sym 
pathy  or  tact,  he  was  confident.  He  fancied  that  she 


346  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

avoided  any  phase  of  the  subject  which  might  call  forth 
more  intimate  interchanges  between  them  ;  and  when 
he  casually  referred  to  the  peril  which  they  two  had 
undergone,  inside  the  burning  building,  and,  from  force 
of  the  oratorical  habit,  let  his  voice  express  anxiety  for 
her,  she  skilfully  led  him  away  from  that  mood,  and 
chatted  about  the  carelessness  of  poor  Matilda  Fifield, 
and  then  about  the  orchestral  concert  which  was  adver 
tised  for  the  following  week. 

He  could  hardly  repress  a  sigh  of  disappointment,  for 
he  now  saw  that  she  was  consciously  holding  him  off,  and 
did  not  wish  any  confidences  of  sympathy  or  interest. 
If  he  succeeded  in  coming  any  nearer  to  her,  it  must  be 
by  his  own  determined  control  of  the  conversation.  "  I 
found  the  burning  of  my  church  a  new  experience,  and 
not  altogether  a  pleasant  one,"  he  remarked,  as  casually 
as  he  could  ;  but  something  in  his  tone  brought  a  change 
into  the  manner  of  Mrs.  Guthrie.  Her  vivacity  suddenly 
ceased  ;  it  ceased  too  suddenly,  he  decided,  to  have  been 
quite  natural. 

"  Yes,  it  must  have  been  very  trying,"  she  responded, 
more  quietly,  relaxing  in  her  chair. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  I  was  so  much  attached  to  the 
place,  until  I  saw  it  being  slowly  devoured  by  the  fierce 
flames." 

"  It  did  burn  fast,"  assented  Mrs.  Guthrie,  with  pro 
saic  conviction. 

"  I  can  hardly  say,  however,  that  I  have  enjoyed  my 
work  as  much,  during  the  past  few  months,  as  I  did 
before  that." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Although,"  continued  the  clergyman,  who  saw  that 
she  was  leaving  him  the  floor  and  was  not  very  respon 
sive,  "  I  have  been  much  perplexed  and  depressed,  for 
several  months.  I  will  not  attempt  to  conceal  from 


"AT  BEST  A  CONTRADICTION   STILL"       347 

you,  Mrs.  Guthrie,  that  fact,  and  the  cause  of  that 
fact." 

He  thought  he  saw  her  gather  herself  together  a 
little  in  her  chair,  but  he  was  not  sure.  "  I  have  come 
to  you,  to-day,  with  the  fixed  resolution  of  speaking 
plainly  to  you.  I  know  that  you  regard  me  as  a  shal 
low  egotist  and  a  sensational  preacher  ;  so  be  it.  I  can 
not  hope  to  alter  your  opinion ;  I  —  "  He  arose  from 
his  seat  and  stood  erect  before  her  —  "  erect  and  hand 
some,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  wish  to  say,  however, 
that  I  value  the  applause  of  gaping  crowds  but  little ; 
I  see  now,  as  never  before,  that  the  human  heart  has 
deeper  needs  than  idle  praise  and  fitful  admiration  ;  it 
has  need,  before  all  else,  of  love  —  deep,  trustful,  abid 
ing  love ;  that  is  —  " 

Mrs.  Guthrie  moved  uneasily  in  her  chair.  She 
had  averted  her  eyes,  as  he  spoke  thus  significantly,  and 
at  this  point,  as  his  voice  became  more  constrained,  she 
suddenly  looked  up  at  him,  with  a  demure  expression 
such  as  he  had  often  seen  there,  and  asked,  mischiev 
ously,  "  Which  sermon  are  you  quoting  from,  Dr. 
Carnaquay?  Is  it  the  one  on  'Love  the  fulfilling  of 
the  Law,'  or  is  it —  " 

The  clergyman's  dark  face  flushed,  and  he  bit  his 
lip,  to  keep  back  his  vexation.  Again  she  was  wound 
ing  his  vanity,  as  so  often  before.  Then  he  bowed 
ceremoniously.  "  I  was  not  aware  that  I  was  quoting," 
he  said  coldly.  "  If  you  assert  that  I  am,  we  will  leave 
it  that  way."  Then  he  regretted  his  vexation,  and  was 
uncertain  as  to  just  how  to  proceed. 

The  clever  woman  before  him  cut  the  Gordian  knot. 
She  sprang  up  impulsively,  went  to  a  table  near  by, 
and  brought  to  him  a  box,  containing  a  dozen  or  more 
volumes.  "  I  wish  you  to  accept  from  me,"  she  said 
sweetly,  charmingly,  with  all  mischief  gone,  "  this  set  of 


348  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Carlyle.  Believe  me,  I  appreciate  the  great  service  you 
rendered  me  —  that  dreadful  day." 

As  she  stood  almost  penitently  before  him,  looking 
up  at  him  with  a  childlike  entreaty,  a  great  tumult  of 
passionate  emotion  took  possession  of  him,  and  he  felt 
an  almost  irresistible  impulse  to  throw  his  arms  about  her 
and  draw  her  to  his  heart ;  that,  or  to  kneel  at  her  feet, 
as  to  one  who  was  infinitely  above  him.  His  egotism, 
his  deeply  rooted  vanity,  seemed  quite  to  have  left  him  ; 
he  was  no  longer  the  "  Rev.  Dr.  Carnaquay  of  Emman 
uel  Church " ;  he  was  simply  the  passionate  lover, 
eagerly  responsive  to  the  slightest  will  or  wish  of  her 
whom  he  loved.  There  was  no  concealing  his  fierce 
heart-hunger  ;  it  gleamed  in  his  eyes  ;  and  the  sensitive 
woman  instinctively  recoiled  from  his  impetuosity,  and 
took  a  step  backward.  Then  her  old  spirit  of  raillery 
returned,  and  she  said,  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  tone, 
"  Please  take  these  books  ;  they  are  so  heavy." 

He  took  them,  but  with  his  eyes  fastened  upon  hers, 
in  mingled  passion  and  reproach.  Her  gaze,  however, 
now  met  his  own,  with  steadiness  and  even  defiance ; 
and  when  he  said,  in  a  low  and  subdued  tone,  "  Thank 
you  !  I  thank  you  very  much,"  she  returned  his  thanks, 
with  a  light  gesture,  and  again  took  up  her  position  in 
the  large  chair. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Guthrie,"  he  began  again,  now  openly 
bent  on  attack,  now  resolved,  in  all  humility  yet  in  full 
determination,  to  get  adequate  speech  with  her,  "  I  came 
here  with  the  deliberate  intention  of  speaking  to  you 
plainly  of  my  love  for  you.  I  cannot  longer  remain  silent 
about  it.  Egotist  though  you  think  me,  relentless  as 
you  seem  to  be  toward  me,  I  must  and  will  — 

If  he  had  kept  on  with  the  almost  heartbroken  hu 
mility  in  which  he  began  this  little  address,  there  is  no 
saying  what  effect  it  might  have  had  on  the  wilful  but 


"AT   BEST   A   CONTRADICTION    STILL"       349 

sympathetic  nature  before  him ;  but,  as  he  referred  to 
the  somewhat  delicate  subject  of  "  egotism,"  a  little  re 
pellent  strain  came  into  his  voice,  and  his  listener  was 
quick  to  feel  its  presence. 

"  Yes,  you  are  an  egotist,"  she  interrupted,  candidly. 
But  even  as  she  spoke  the  almost  brutally  frank  words, 
poor  Carnaquay  suddenly  perceived  that  she  spoke  them 
not  bitterly,  nor  angrily,  but  with  a  certain  calmness 
which  bordered  on  kindness.  "But  then,"  she  added, 
nonchalantly,  "most  men  are."  Whereupon  Carnaquay 
found  himself  conjecturing  about  the  remote  and  misty 
character  of  the  late  Dr.  Guthrie. 

"An  egotist,  yes,"  she  went  on,  "but  not  —  but  not 
so  much  so,  as  you  were  when  I  first  met  you,  I  think." 
Somehow,  the  idea  or  judgment  did  not  seem  to  disturb 
her,  nor  did  it  have  contempt  concealed  behind  it.  He 
therefore  took  courage. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Guthrie,"  he  exclaimed,  with  hope 
arising  in  his  heart,  "  perhaps  I  am ;  but  such  as  I  am, 
all  that  I  am,  I  offer  you  —  my  honest  love,  my  truest 
devotion.  I  —  " 

He  approached,  as  he  spoke,  and  was  inclined  to  seize 
her  hand,  or  even,  passionate  man  that  he  was,  to  kneel 
humbly  at  her  feet ;  but  he  felt  that  she  would  rebel  at 
this.  After  all,  most  women,  however  they  may  exact 
homage,  really  wish  to  do  the  kneeling,  at  least  in  spirit, 
themselves ;  they  make  a  brave  show  with  the  sceptre, 
but  they  have  a  secret  longing  for  the  cross.  They  de 
sire  to  have  strength  offered  them,  and  not  weakness. 
And  Mrs.  Guthrie  silently  motioned  him  to  sit  down.  "  I 
thank  you,"  she  said  with  an  emotion  which  she  could 
not  wholly  conceal ;  her  voice  was  not  so  calm  and  clear 
as  before.  "  A  strong  man's  love  is  not  to  be  lightly 
trifled  with." 

Ronald  Carnaquay  hoped,  in  his  very  soul,  that  this 


350  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

was  her  real  conviction,  rather  than  that  expressed  in 
her  baffling,  elusive  badinage.  He  started  to  his  feet, 
with  a  quick  indrawing  of  the  breath ;  but  her  voice 
caught  him,  half  risen,  "  Sit  down,  Dr.  Carnaquay  !  I 
beg  you  to  sit  down."  And  he  sank  back,  like  an  obedi 
ent  child,  covering  his  face,  for  a  moment,  with  his 
hand. 

"  I  will  speak  to  you  plainly,"  she  said  in  a  low  musical 
voice,  "  very  plainly.  I  will  not  ignore  or  seem  to  ignore 
the  fact  of  your  sincere  affection  for  me.  I  already 
owe  you  much  ;  I  —  yes,  I  owe  you,  probably,  my  life. 
I  owe  you,  also,  a  plain,  honest  statement  of  my  attitude 
toward  you.  I  am  not  unappreciative  of  the  great  honor 
you  do  me ;  but  I  cannot  marry  —  that  is  —  I  will  say 
frankly  to  you,  as  I  have  often  said  to  myself,  that  I 
think  more  highly  of  you  as  a  man  than  as  a  minister." 

She  leaned  toward  him,  as  she  spoke,  and  the  words 
seemed  to  come  with  regret,  yet  with  irrevocable  reso 
lution.  He  almost  groaned  as  she  said  them.  She 
continued,  unconsciously  moulding  this  general  proposi 
tion  into  more  concrete  form,  as  she  proceeded :  "  I  do 
not  think  you  are  the  right  sort  of  man  to  be  a  minister. 
As  a  minister  you  are  lacking  in  qualities  which  seem  to 
me  essential  to  that  sacred  calling  ;  whereas,  as  a  man, 
you  —  you  —  " 

He  held  his  breath,  so  eager  was  he  to  hear  her  finish 
the  sentence ;  but  she  did  not  finish  it.  Either  she  did 
not  dare,  or  she  did  not  care  to.  However,  she  was 
much  stirred,  and  her  beautiful  eyes  were  glistening 
with  moisture.  As  she  became  more  excited,  he  grew 
calmer.  "  May  I  understand,  then,  that  if  I  were  not  a 
minister,  and  offered  you  what  I  do  now  offer,  that  you 
would  listen  to  me  —  listen  more  —  favorably  ?  " 

She  opened  her  lips,  as  if  to  reply,  then  closed  them 
and  gazed  fixedly  across  the  room.  There  was  entire 


"AT   BEST   A   CONTRADICTION    STILL"       351 

silence  between  them,  for  several  moments.  Her  lips 
became  gradually  more  and  more  compressed,  and  he 
knew  that  her  will  was  intrenching  itself  behind  the 
barricade  she  had  thrown  up. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Guthrie  !  Oh,  Adeline ! "  he  burst  out,  "  you 
must  not  be  cruel  to  me."  And  he  rose,  and  continued, 
"  You  cannot  be  cruel.  You  do  care  at  least  somewhat 
for  me.  You  have  shown  me,  in  many  little  ways,  your 
warmth  of  heart.  You  came  to  meet  me  to-day,  wear 
ing  a  rose  which  I  have  given  you.  I  cannot  —  " 

She  caught  the  flower  from  her  dress  and  threw  it 
upon  the  floor,  with  the  red  of  her  cheeks  spreading 
like  a  fanned  flame.  She  was  angry  and  rebellious,  at 
any  suggestion  that  she  had  committed  herself  to  him 
in  any  way.  He  sprang  toward  her,  caught  her  hand, 
and  cried :  "  No,  no  !  I  did  not  mean  so  much  as  that. 
Forgive  me  !  You  are  —  you  are  yourself ;  and  I  —  I 
—  am  your  slave."  Then  he  stepped  quickly  away 
from  her,  for  he  felt  her  hand  grow  rigid  in  his  grasp, 
and  she  seemed  to  lift  herself  above  his  own  tall  height. 
He  dreaded  her  anger,  her  scorn.  And  he  continued, 
standing  quite  apart,  "  I  ask  no  more  than  to  be  allowed 
to  offer  you  my  love.  I  am  a  minister,  and  a  minister 
I  must  remain.  Mrs.  Guthrie,  Adeline,  I  have  no  choice 
at  present.  My  duty  binds  me." 

He  spoke  rapidly,  but  with  increasing  steadiness. 
She  turned  and  looked  at  him,  surveyed  him  coldly 
and  yet  with  a  puzzled  look.  He  caught  her  meaning, 
her  inquiry.  He  understood  that  she  was  unaware  of 
his  exact  position  toward  his  profession  and  toward 
Emmanuel  Church.  He  caught  eagerly  at  the  idea 
and  went  on  :  "  Since  the  church  building  was  destroyed, 
I  have  stood  in  a  position  of  new  obligation  to  the 
society.  I  will  honestly  admit  that  a  week  ago  I  seri 
ously  contemplated  giving  up  —  giving  up  a  profession 


352  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

for  which  —  for  which  you  have  shown  me  that  I  am 
essentially  unfitted." 

There  was  moodiness  and  a  trace  of  bitterness  in  his 
voice ;  but  it  vanished,  as  he  proceeded  more  quietly  : 
"  However,  I  am  now  in  honor  bound  not  to  desert  this 
people.  The  trustees  have  expressed  the  wish  that  I 
continue,  and  continue  I  must." 

He  closed,  with  a  bow  toward  her  that  was  not  artificial, 
not  histrionic,  but  resolute,  final.  He  saw  the  color  come 
and  go  in  her  rounded  cheeks,  and  would  have  given  the 
world  to  know  exactly  what  she  was  thinking  about. 

The  two  faced  each  other,  and  eye  met  eye.  He 
could  not  be  mistaken  ;  a  gathering  respect  and  regard 
shone  in  those  expressive  eyes,  and  one  hand  moved,  as 
toward  him.  He  started  to  respond  to  it;  but  she  drew 
back,  although  they  were  several  paces  apart.  She  was 
vital  with  feeling  and  sympathy,  but  she  would  not  allow 
her  emotions  to  dominate  her. 

Then  she  suddenly  stooped,  took  the  rose  from  the 
carpet,  and  with  trembling  hands,  tell-tale  hands,  re 
stored  it  to  its  place  at  her  waist.  Then,  catching  her 
breath,  in  a  gasp,  and  with  a  half-suppressed  sob,  she 
pointed  impulsively  toward  the  door,  and  stood,  beauti 
ful,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  yet  resolute,  yes,  tender,  and 
waited  for  him  to  go. 

He  went  slowly  out.  And  his  heart  leaped,  with  joy  and 
hope ;  for,  with  his  sanguine  temperament,  he  felt  con 
vinced  that  she  loved  him  and  that  he  must  simply  wait. 

He  went  out,  forgetting  all  about  the  volumes  of 
Carlyle ;  and  the  next  day  they  were  sent  to  him,  with 
the  leaf  of  one  volume  turned  down ;  it  was  the  volume 
containing  "  Sartor  Resartus  ";  and  on  the  margin  of  the 
page  thus  indicated,  he  made  out  a  faint  pencil-mark. 
He  read  the  sentence,  "  Pale  Doubt  fled  away  to  the 
distance ;  Life  bloomed  up  with  happiness  and  hope." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

"THOU  ART  THE  MAN" 

"  Around  the  man  who  seeks  a  noble  end 
Not  angels  but  divinities  attend." 

—  R.  W.  EMERSON. 

THE  next  day,  Miss  Metcalf  came  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Guthrie,  her  "dear  friend  Adeline,"  as  she  addressed 
her,  on  taking  her  hand;  and  Mrs.  Guthrie  knew,  as 
well  as  though  she  had  been  told  outright,  that  the  tall, 
snowy-haired  spinster  had  some  disagreeable  element  in 
her  errand.  There  was  a  widening  of  the  mouth  when 
she  smiled,  and,  with  the  smile  or  grimace,  a  slight  fur 
tive  closing  of  the  dark  eyes,  which  always  gave  warn 
ing,  to  those  who  knew  Miss  Metcalf  well,  that  she  was 
bent  on  some  unpleasant  errand.  Her  bodily  move 
ments,  too,  at  such  times,  exhibited  a  suppleness  which 
hinted  at  a  suppleness  of  character  within.  So  that 
when  she  declared,  with  effusion,  that  she  came  over  to 
ask  after  her  "  dear  Adeline's  "  welfare,  Mrs.  Guthrie 
gave  her  a  conventional  answer,  invited  her  in,  and 
waited  to  discover  the  real  purpose  of  her  coming. 

There  is  never  a  youth  or  maiden,  in  love,  who  does 
not  labor  under  the  fond  delusion  that  he  or  she  con 
ceals  the  secret  of  the  sacred  passion  from  all  pro 
fane  eyes ;  yet  hardly  one  goes  about  the  streets  and 
among  friends,  having  his  heart  on  fire  with  genuine 
romantic  love,  who  does  not  carry  that  plain  testimony 
of  its  pressure,  in  face  and  manner.  Kind  friends,  when 
they  are  at  length  informed  about  the  mutual  relations  of 
2  A  353 


354  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

two  hearts  which  they  had  long  before  perceived,  affect 
surprise,  gentle  or  great,  and  encourage  the  delusion 
that  utmost  propriety  and  secrecy  has  been  preserved. 
Thus  all  the  world  not  only  loves  a  lover,  but  recognizes 
one  at  sight. 

Thus  with  sharp-eyed,  distrustful  Miss  Metcalf ;  she 
had  long  known  the  growing  attachment  between 
Carnaquay  and  Mrs.  Guthrie.  As  to  its  state  of 
progress  she  was  not  sure;  which  of  the  two  was  the 
more  deeply  under  the  magic  spell  she  could  not  have 
said.  But  the  general  trend  of  events  was  very  patent 
to  her ;  and  she  had  been  at  first  violent,  in  her  re 
bellion  and  jealousy,  but  lately  quiet  and  vindictive  and 
watchful. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  she  went  on  idly,  taking  off  her 
gloves,  and  letting  her  eyes  rest  critically  on  a  beauti 
ful  new  opal  ring,  set  in  diamonds,  —  "  glad  that  you 
came  through  that  dreadful  experience,  unharmed.  Oh, 
it  must  have  been  a  fearful  experience." 

"It  was,"  assented  Mrs.  Guthrie,  laconically. 

"  With  that  ceiling  falling  all  around  you,  too  !  "  Her 
voice  was  soft,  and  extremely  flexible  and  insinuating. 
Each  sentence  seemed  to  turn  upward  at  the  ends, 
like  Emperor  William's  world-famous  mustache.  "And 
then,  how  —  how  —  remarkable,  to  be  carried  out  of  the 
building,  in  a  man's  arms !  "  And  the  sensitive  spinster 
bowed  her  head  and  pressed  both  hands  over  her  eyes, 
as  if  to  prevent  herself  from  seeing  her  own  too  vivid 
fancy. 

"  What  a  strong,  handsome  man  Dr.  Carnaquay  is, 
Adeline !  Isn't  he  ? "  she  presently  ventured. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  nodded,  silently. 

Miss  Metcalf's  more  gushing  emotions  ceased,  at  this 
point,  and  with  a  quieter  tone  she  remarked  :  "  He  ought 
to  be  in  some  kind  of  occupation  where  he  could  use  his 


"THOU   ART  THE   MAN"  355 

splendid  physical  strength.  At  least  I  don't  think  he 
was  born  to  be  a  minister." 

Mrs.  Guthrie  tried  to  conceal  her  annoyance.  Prob 
ably  she  did  not  succeed  in  her  attempt ;  for  her  visitor 
was  an  adept,  herself,  at  ruses  and  guerilla  warfare.  "  I 
often  wish,"  continued  Miss  Metcalf,  affecting  to  be 
interested  in  her  shapely  hand,  "  I  often  wish  that  we 
had  dear  Mr.  Freeman  back  again,  he  was  such  a  sincere 
soul." 

"  Sincere  soul,"  indeed  !  This  was  interesting,  coming 
from  a  duplex  nature  like  Miss  Metcalf  s.  And  Mrs. 
Guthrie  could  hardly  repress  a  smile,  at  the  word,  as 
she  recalled  the  underhand  manoeuvring  of  Miss  Met 
calf,  a  few  years  before,  to  push  the  Freemans  out  of 
Emmanuel  Church. 

"  And  as  for  preaching,"  said  Miss  Metcalf,  holding 
up  her  hand  to  catch  the  light  through  an  opal.  "  Why, 
I  find  Dr.  Brown,  011  Fourth  Avenue,  quite  as  satisfactory 
a  preacher  as  Dr.  Carnaquay ;  and  the  pews  over  there 
are  a  great  deal  more  comfortable.  I  do  hope  that  when 
Emmanuel  Church  builds  again,  it  will  see  to  it  that  the 
pews  are  more  comfortable  than  the  old  ones  were." 

It  was  noticeable  that  she  didn't  say  "when  we  rebuild," 
thus  identifying  herself  with  the  church,  but  she  spoke  of 
"  Emmanuel  Church  "  as  a  body  remote  from  herself  ; 
thus  she  divulged,  unconsciously,  the  chasm  which  was 
opening  between  her  heart  and  the  church  which  had 
always  been  her  home. 

She  talked  with  apparent  freedom,  but  her  hostess 
knew  that  she  had  some  secret  errand  in  coming,  which 
had  not  yet  been  revealed ;  what  that  errand  was,  time 
would  tell.  "  I  always  was  very  fond  of  the  Freemans," 
continued  Miss  Metcalf,  seeing  that  Mrs.  Guthrie  had 
nothing  to  offer.  "  I  sometimes  think  that  our  people 
did  not  fully  appreciate  their  worth.  And  Mr.  Freeman 


356  RONALD    CARNAQUAY 

has  grown  so  much,  in  every  way,  since  he  left  us.  Why, 
I  often  see  articles  of  his,  referred  to  in  the  magazines, 
and  he  lectures  now  at  Amherst  College.  I  haven't 
heard  him  preach,  but  I  am  told  that  he  has  developed 
into  a  quite  powerful  speaker.  Have  you  heard  him, 
Adeline  dear  ? " 

"Yes,  I  have,"  responded  Mrs.  Guthrie,  drawn  out 
of  her  reticence  by  this  clever  appeal  in  favor  of  Free 
man,  for  whom  she  had  always  entertained  great  respect 
and  regard.  "He  is  a  strong  preacher  —  very  simple 
and  direct  and  earnest." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  that  is  what  I  have  heard,"  said  Miss  Met- 
calf.  "And  that  direct  kind  of  preaching,  that  takes 
hold  of  people's  lives,  and  unearths  their  weaknesses  and 
sins  —  that  is  the  right  kind  of  preaching.  That  is  the 
kind  I  like  best."  And  she  let  her  snowy  head  droop 
sentimentally  on  one  side,  and  toyed  with  her  costly 
rings. 

"  As  for  Dr.  Carnaquay,"  she  continued,  "  I  really 
think  that  he  has  outstayed  his  period  of  usefulness. 
I  hear  people  say  that  he  is  not  a  man  to  wear  very 
long." 

The  speaker  knew  perfectly  well  Mrs.  Guthrie's  gen 
eral  attitude  of  sympathy,  and  perhaps  of  affection, 
toward  the  man  whom  she  was  sweetly  flaying  alive  ; 
but  she  had  come,  on  malicious  purpose  bent,  and  moved 
towards  her  goal,  her  accents  becoming  more  tender  as 
her  suggestions  became  more  bitter.  "  I  haven't  paid 
much  attention  to  most  of  the  increasing  complaints 
which  I  have  heard,  but  that  matter  of  plagiarism  — 
that  seemed  to  me  altogether  too  much.  I  knew  that 
Dr.  Carnaquay  was  a  shallow  and  ill-grounded  preacher, 
but  I  did  not  suppose  that  he  would  steal.  I  — 

"  Miss  Metcalf  !  "  It  was  Adeline  Guthrie's  turn,  now, 
to  lead  the  conversation.  The  brilliant  young  widow 


"THOU   ART   THE   MAN"  357 

was  on  her  feet,  with  flashing  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks. 
She  now  saw  the  motive  which  had  brought  her  vindic 
tive  visitor.  There  was  no  longer  need  of  silence  and 
watchfulness.  Miss  Metcalf  had  delivered  her  stab ;  it 
was  her  one  blow,  and  she  had  driven  it  home.  Her 
hostess  threw  off  all  concealment  of  her  indignation. 
"  Miss  Metcalf,  I  think  you  do  Dr.  Carnaquay  a  grievous 
wrong.  I  supposed  you  were  his  friend.  You  claimed 
to  be  his  kinswoman,  and  now  — 

"No,  no,  I  —  but  you  see,  my  dear  —  I  —  "Miss 
Metcalf  affected  profound  surprise  and  alarm  at  Mrs. 
Guthrie's  excitement,  yet  in  her  heart  she  was  delighted 
at  the  result  of  her  visit.  Her  plan  of  vengeance  had 
succeeded.  "  I  supposed  you  knew,  that  —  that  you  were 
aware  of  this  matter;  and  —  and  I  did  not  know  —  " 

She  could  hardly  repress  the  wicked  glee  in  her  cruel 
heart,  as  she  strove  to  appear  concerned  for  Mrs.  Guth 
rie's  feelings.  But  she  saw  that  her  errand  had  really 
been  completed,  and  her  visit  was  near  its  end.  She 
arose  and  came  toward  her  victim,  with  a  treacherous 
smile,  putting  out  her  hand. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  threw  all  reserves  and  proprieties  to  the 
winds.  She  was  excited  and  indignant.  She  had  really 
not  heard  a  whisper  of  this  piece  of  foolish  scandal,  and 
had  not  known  about  the  plagiarism.  She  drew  back, 
and  slowly  articulated :  "  You  are  a  false  and  cruel  wo 
man.  Few  would  dare  say  it  to  you,  but  many  think 
it.  Let  this  interview  end  all  intercourse  between  us  ! 
Miss  Metcalf,  permit  me  to  lead  the  way  to  the  door  !  " 
And,  with  great  dignity,  she  moved  across  the  room, 
opened  the  door,  and  stood  there  waiting,  such  a  personi 
fication  of  indignant  scorn,  that  the  Metcalf  suavity  lost 
its  balance,  and  the  Metcalf  volubility  found  no  avenue 
of  adequate  expression ;  a  moment  later  the  door  closed 
between  them,  cutting  their  strained  friendship,  as  irre- 


358  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

coverably  as  the  shears  of  Atropos  sever  the  thread 
of  a  human  life. 

When  once  her  artful  and  malicious  visitor  was  gone, 
poor  Adeline  Guthrie  sank  into  a  mood  of  profound  de 
pression.  She  went  upstairs,  bathed  her  hands  and  her 
face,  and  tried  to  recover  her  poise  of  mind.  But  in 
vain.  The  words  of  her  visitor  had  indeed  cut  deeply. 
"Plagiarism?  Stealing?"  She  had  heard  nothing  of 
this  before.  Was  it  possible  ?  Miss  Metcalf  had  spoken 
as  though  the  thing  were  an  acknowledged  fact,  and 
current  throughout  the  parish.  Could  it  be  true  ?  She 
tried  to  analyze  Carnaquay's  character  afresh,  as  a 
schoolgirl  reworks  her  problem,  after  an  answer  has 
been  suggested  to  her,  to  see  if  she  can  evolve  that 
answer,  by  any  proper  arrangement  or  rearrangement 
of  her  figures.  She  could  not  believe  that  he  would  do 
such  a  thing.  And  yet  —  and  yet  —  he  had  often  shown 
a  strange  laxity  of  feeling  and  perception,  on  points  of 
clerical  conduct  which  seemed  to  her  to  call  for  strict, 
vigorous,  moral  decisions. 

At  length  she  put  on  her  hat  and  cloak  and  went 
out.  She  was  resolved,  in  her  distress  of  mind,  to  see 
Rebecca  Freeman.  She  trusted  her,  implicitly,  and 
although  she  was  not  prepared  to  open  her  heart  freely 
and  fully  to  any  one,  she  was  longing  for  sympathy,  and 
knew  well  that  Mrs.  Freeman  would  give  it. 

When  she  entered  the  snug  little  apartment,  over  the 
grocery  store,  Mrs.  Freeman  immediately  noticed  her 
agitation  of  manner,  and  her  disturbed  countenance. 
"  Why,  Adeline,  my  dear,"  exclaimed  the  minister's 
wife,  coming  forward  and  impulsively  putting  out  both 
hands,  "how  warm  you  look!  How  excited  you 
seem ! "  And  Mrs.  Guthrie,  holding  both  of  her 
friend's  honest  hands  in  her  own,  thought  she  felt 
strengthened  by  the  very  physical  contact. 


"THOU   ART   THE   MAN"  359 

"  Here,  let  me  take  your  cloak  and  hat,  my  dear !  " 
said  Mrs.  Freeman,  cordially.  "I  —  I — wasn't  looking 
for  you  at  this  time,  but  I'm  always  glad  to  see  you." 

"Oh,  Rebecca,"  exclaimed  the  young  widow,  seating 
herself  and  trying  to  regain  her  usual  calmness,  "you 
are  —  you  are  a  true  and  faithful  friend  !  " 

This  was  somewhat  abrupt,  as  both  saw,  and  the  vis 
itor  relapsed  into  silence.  She  hardly  knew  whether 
she  wished  to  say  anything,  even  now  that  she  had 
come  with  that  express  purpose.  "  Did  you  have  some 
thing  you  wished  to  tell  me  ? "  inquired  Mrs.  Freeman, 
as  gently  as  she  could. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  —  I  did  have,"  responded  Mrs.  Guthrie, 
with  a  sigh  ;  and  she  added  with  a  faint  smile,  "  but  I'm 
not  quite  sure  that  I  have  now."  Then  her  face  be 
came  serious  and  anxious  again,  and,  after  waiting  for  a 
few  moments,  she  doubled  on  herself  once  more.  "  It's 
about  Dr.  Carnaquay." 

"Yes  ?"  answered  Mrs.  Freeman,  encouragingly,  but 
she  dared  not  assume  much,  on  this  slender  suggestion, 
and  therefore  awaited  her  friend's  more  explicit  ex 
planation. 

"  Rebecca,  did  you  ever  hear  any  talk  about  Dr. 
Carnaquay's  preaching  other  people's  sermons  ?  Plagia 
rism,  you  know.  S-stealing,  in  short." 

Her  voice  was  tense  and  anxious,  and  there  was  no 
mistaking  her  interest  in  the  person  named  by  her. 
Mrs.  Freeman  now  had  her  clew,  and  saw  that  Mrs. 
Guthrie  had  somehow  stumbled  suddenly  into  this  very 
unpleasant  knowledge.  She  felt  sure  that  there  was 
some  sort  of  understanding  between  the  two,  and  now 
Mrs.  Guthrie  must  have  learned,  for  the  first  time,  about 
Carnaquay's  sin  of  months  before.  How  to  meet  her 
and  answer  her  inquiries,  and  yet  not  hurt  her  deeply  — 
that  was  the  problem. 


360  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  about  such  a  matter,"  replied  she, 
smoothing  her  gown,  in  a  mechanical  way,  as  she  spoke. 
"  I  heard  about  it  long  ago.  Had  you  never  heard  any 
such  rumor  ? " 

Mrs.  Guthrie  did  not  reply,  directly.  "  Do  you  think 
it  is  true  ?  "  she  asked,  instead.  "  Do  you  think  he  did 
really  —  really  steal  from  some  other  writer  ? " 

Mrs.  Freeman's  heart  was  touched  with  sympathy  for 
the  troubled  woman.  She  came  over  and  leaned  against 
the  chair  and  stroked  her  head,  and  thus  they  did  not 
look  full  in  each  other's  faces,  and  Mrs.  Guthrie  was 
free  from  the  feeling  that  she  was  being  closely  ob 
served.  "  My  dear  Adeline,  I  will  say  plainly  that  I 
fear  that  he  did,  in  at  least  one  sermon,  use  a  few 
paragraphs  which  he  should  not  have  used.  I  speak 
plainly.  That  is  the  only  way  for  me." 

"  And  —  and  —  how  sure  are  you  about  what  you  say  ? 
And  —  what  if  he  did?  Oh,  Rebecca,  dear,"  and  she 
hid  her  tearful  face  on  her  trusted  friend's  shoulder. 
"  Talk  to  me  !  Tell  me  all  about  it !  And  —  and  what 
you  think,  yourself,  about  it." 

Then  Mrs.  Freeman  took  up  the  clew,  and  spoke 
carefully,  sympathetically,  telling  the  facts  in  the  case, 
yet  adding  her  own  softening  comments  and  her  hus 
band's.  She  knew,  now,  that  Mrs.  Guthrie  loved  Car- 
naquay,  but  she  knew,  also,  that  this  wilful  woman 
was  capable  of  forswearing  all  the  happiness  of  which 
she  might  be  dreaming,  and  binding  herself  irrecover 
ably  to  her  loneliness  of  life.  "  Lawrence  has  a  high 
opinion  of  Dr.  Carnaquay,  I  know.  We  have  often 
talked  the  matter  over,"  she  continued,  in  a  soft  and 
comforting  and  reassuring  way.  "  Lawrence  says  that 
it  was  wrong,  and  that  it  was  a  wrong  —  a  sin  — 
which  grew  partly  out  of  Dr.  Carnaquay's  lack  of  clerical 
training,  and  his  lack  of  association  with  ministers  and 


"THOU   ART  THE   MAN"  361 

the  professional  standards.  Not  that  such  an  interpre 
tation  excuses  the  wrong,  but  it  does,  in  a  measure, 
palliate  it.  I  know,  moreover,  that  Mr.  Marshall,  who 
is  the  soul  of  business  honor,  has  actually  offered  Dr. 
Carnaquay  a  very  important  position  as  agent  for 
his  mills  in  the  West,  and  I  have  heard  him  say,  with 
reference  to  the  matter  of  —  of  the  plagiarism,  that 
Dr.  Carnaquay  was  a  much  better  man  than  minister. 
A  rough-handed  compliment,  one  might  say,  but  genu 
ine  and  significant." 

Mrs.  Freeman  continued  to  stroke  her  friend's  head, 
in  a  gentle,  loving  way,  and  there  was  entire  confidence 
between  the  two,  and  much  comfort  to  one  of  them. 
Mrs.  Guthrie's  breathing  grew  quieter,  and  her  body  re 
laxed  more  and  more,  and  presently  she  said,  lifting  her 
head  and  wiping  her  eyes,  "  I  wish  — very  much  —  that 
Dr.  Carnaquay  —  were  not — a  minister."  Then  she 
sighed,  and  added,  as  if  in  soliloquy,  "  He  wishes  so, 
too." 

Again,  after  another  long  pause,  she  continued,  ear 
nestly,  "  Oh,  Rebecca,  dear,  you  don't  know  how  lonely 
I  am.  You  have  such  a  true  and  noble  husband,  to  talk 
over  everything  with ;  but  I  am  alone.  Oh,  if  I  only 
had  some  one,  as  you  have,  to  trust  and  lean  upon,  and 
—  and  love  —  and  to  love  me.  There  !  I  really  don't 
know,"  she  broke  in  impulsively,  smiling  through  her 
tears,  with  that  mixture  of  pathos  and  humor  which  was 
so  characteristic  of  her,  when  with  a  trusted  friend,  —  "I 
really  don't  know  whether  I  wish  to  love  or  to  be  loved. 
Anyhow,  I'm  a  wretched,  lonely,  loveless  woman." 

There  was  a  step  on  the  stairs,  and  Freeman  came  in. 
Mrs.  Guthrie  made  an  instinctive  feminine  start  toward 
concealing  signs  of  her  disorder  and  distress,  but  as 
quickly  gave  up,  and  with  a  smile,  when  she  discovered 
who  it  was. 


362  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

Lawrence  saw  at  once  that  he  had  stumbled  in  upon  a 
"  scene,"  but  he  showed  no  consciousness  of  it ;  however, 
Mrs.  Guthrie  said  promptly  and  gayly,  drying  her  eyes 
with  a  bit  of  dainty  linen  beautifully  embroidered — a 
handkerchief,  or  better,  a  finger-kerchief,  "  Well,  there 
is  no  concealing  the  fact;  some  one  has  been  babyish, 
but  now  she  won't  cry  any  more  ;  she  is  now  grown  up." 
And  she  arose,  lightly,  throwing  off  her  mood  of  de 
spondency,  and  began  questioning  Lawrence  about  his 
work. 

But  one  could  see  —  and  the  two  watchful,  sympa 
thetic  friends  did  see  —  that  her  gayety  was  forced,  and 
they  were  not  surprised,  as  they  followed  her  vivacious 
lead  in  the  conversation,  to  see  how  easily  she  recurred 
to  the  subject  of  Emmanuel  Church,  and  —  without  di 
rectly  naming  him  —  to  Ronald  Carnaquay.  Presently 
she  remarked,  in  an  impersonal  but  slightly  labored  way: 
"  I  wish  you  would  come,  Mr.  Freeman,  and  be  the  min 
ister  of  Emmanuel  Church.  Hasn't  this  '  Babylonish 
exile  '  of  yours  lasted  about  long  enough  ?  " 

Lawrence  took  the  suggestion  good-naturedly.  "  Ah, 
but  you  have  one  clergyman  already.  What  do  you 
wish  ?  A  curate  also  ?  "  That  was  modest  of  him,  but 
he  always  assumed  that  Ronald  Carnaquay  was  his  su 
perior,  in  pulpit  power,  really  not  appreciating  how  much 
strength,  in  public  speech,  he  himself  had  developed. 
But  he  saw  that  there  was  more  behind  her  light  words 
than  at  first  appeared,  for  Mrs.  Freeman  took  up  the 
thread  of  conversation  hastily.  "  Adeline  was  telling 
me,  just  before  you  came  in,  that  Dr.  Carnaquay  has 
had  serious  intentions  of  giving  up  the  ministry." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  "  responded  Freeman,  and  then  added, 
mischievously,  speaking  to  Mrs.  Guthrie,  "  hence  these 
tears  —  sorrow  at  the  prospect  of  losing  a  pastor  ? "  But 
he  saw  that  although  this  charming  young  widow  at- 


"THOU   ART   THE   MAN"  363 

tempted  to  meet  his  thrust  with  a  smile,  the  attempt  was 
not  very  successful.  So,  in  default  of  any  other  retreat, 
he  began  a  more  serious  discussion  of  the  situation  of 
the  church. 

"  I  am  well  occupied  with  my  present  work,"  he  re 
marked,  laying  down  some  books  which  he  had  brought 
in,  and  seating  himself.  "  I  believe  I  am  better  fitted 
for  just  the  kind  of  work  I  am  doing,  than  for  the  more 
conventional  churches.  You  see,  I  have  some  peculiar 
notions."  He  crossed  his  legs  comfortably,  and  smiled 
as  he  spoke.  "And  those  notions  seem  —  from  what 
I  read  in  the  New  Testament  —  to  have  been  held 
also  by  a  Great  Leader,  and  by  his  immediate  followers  ; 
they  are  ideas  of  an  aggressive  sort ;  a  theory  and  ideal 
of  an  active,  earnest  kind  of  Christianity,  which  shall 
not  only  search  out  and  remedy  individual  cases  of  want 
and  distress,  but  shall  grapple  boldly,  intellectually,  and 
morally,  with  the  principles  and  problems  and  customs 
of  human  society,  underlying  these  myriad  cases  of  indi 
vidual  need.  I  would  rather  have  a  small  number  of 
brave,  earnest  adherents  than  a  multitude  of  luxurious 
followers.  I  see  how  wise  the  old  Jewish  leader  Gideon 
was,  in  weeding  out  the  inefficients  from  his  army,  by 
that  ingenious  water-test  of  his." 

"  I  don't  quite  catch  the  drift  and  force  of  your  allu 
sion,"  interposed  Mrs.  Guthrie,  nonchalantly ;  "  but  I 
fancy  that  water-tests  might  be  used  to-day,  and  would 
result  in  very  sound  moral  and  social  classifications, 
according  as  the  water  were  given  internal  or  external 
application." 

Lawrence  noticed  that  she  spoke  more  calmly,  more 
like  her  old,  piquant  self,  and  he  was  pleased.  He 
therefore  retorted  :  "  Oh,  you  are  quite  astray  in  your 
understanding  of  my  illustration.  You  must  look  up 
the  matter."  Then  he  continued,  for  she  seemed  inter- 


364  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

ested  :  "  Somehow  the  Christian  church  almost  always 
loses  its  spiritual  vitality  and  moral  earnestness,  yes, 
and  moral  courage,  when  it  becomes  opulent  and  power 
ful.  Christian  history  shows  us  countless  illustrations 
of  that  ebb  and  flow  in  spiritual  life,  with  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  worldly  position.  There  are,  however,  other 
reasons  for  desiring  wealth  ;  and  one  is,  that  if  a  church 
has  the  independence  which  comes  from  an  assured  in 
come,  its  leaders  and  its  members  can  more  boldly  attack 
many  forms  of  sin  and  ignorance,  which  otherwise  they 
would  not  dare  to  touch.  While  I  see  the  strength  and 
loyalty  which  grow  from  a  congregation's  contributing 
to  the  support  of  its  church  edifice  and  leadership 
and  activities,  I  believe  also  that  a  strongly  endowed 
church,  in  the  control  of  a  few  high-minded,  earnest 
men,  can  be  more  effective  and  aggressive  against 
many  kinds  of  sin  and  injustice,  than  any  church  is 
likely  to  be  which  is  obliged  to  constantly  defer  to  the 
whims  and  worldly  standards  of  those  who  furnish  its 
financial  support.  Moreover,  the  sordid  commercial 
ism,  which  so  threatens  to  eat  out  the  life  of  many 
churches,  grows  in  part  out  of  the  intense  competition 
among  churches  and  sects  ;  if  there  were  fewer  churches, 
this  struggle  for  existence  would  be  less  fierce,  and  the 
higher  aims  of  church  life  would  not  be  so  sacrificed  to 
the  material  necessities." 

While  Lawrence  was  speaking,  growing  more  and 
more  interested,  himself,  as  he  went  on,  the  door  quietly 
opened,  and  Mr.  Marshall  came  in,  unperceived.  He 
stood,  in  uncertainty,  for  a  moment,  then,  trusting  to  his 
easy,  friendly  footing  in  the  family,  he  sank  softly  into  a 
chair  near  the  door  and  listened. 

"  I  more  and  more  class  churches,"  continued  the 
minister,  "  with  educational  organizations  ;  and,  together 
with  them  and  philanthropic  institutions  and  reformatory 


"THOU   ART   THE    MAN"  365 

movements,  I  believe  they  should  be  independent,  largely, 
of  support  from  the  people  whom  they  seek  to  influence 
and  educate.  No  college  is  annually  supported  by  the 
fees  of  those  who  are  passing  through  its  curriculum, 
nor  is  a  '  home '  or  a  hospital  maintained  by  the  pay 
ments  of  its  inmates  ;  all  these  institutions  depend  on 
the  large  gifts  of  persons  who  are  not  directly  benefited 
by  them,  at  least  at  the  time  when  they  are  giving  the 
money.  And  churches,  also,  which  are  established  on 
the  same  basis,  and  are  well  administered,  do  far  more 
effective  work,  in  their  several  communities,  than  do  such 
churches  as  subsist  on  annual  collections,  and  are  seri 
ously  embarrassed  by  the  need  of  satisfying  the  passing 
whims  and  prejudices  of  the  people  who  hold  the  purse- 
strings, —  people  who  loose  them  only  on  condition  that 
their  own  business  methods  be  not  attacked,  or  their 
social  ease  be  not  disturbed." 

The  earnest  speaker  lowered  his  voice  a  little,  as  he 
continued,  even  more  earnestly  and  as  if  reflecting 
aloud,  "  I  have  never,  until  the  past  year,  desired  money  ; 
that  is,  more  money  than  I  need  to  live  comfortably  as 
now."  And  he  smiled,  as  he  remembered  his  exact 
social  surroundings.  "  But  of  late  I  have  wished  that 
I  were  the  possessor  of  wealth.  I  see  not  only  a  multi 
tude  of  individual  needs  which  I  would  like  to  meet, 
but,  as  a  minister,  I  have  an  increasingly  clear  ideal  of 
what  sort  of  church  I  would  like  to  direct,  if  it  could 
be  financially  independent,  and  if  I  could—  "  here  he 
smiled  again,  — "  could  have  my  own  way  about  its 
work." 

Here,  as  he  paused,  a  slight  noise  from  near  the  door 
drew  the  attention  of  the  three  friends ;  and,  looking 
that  way,  they  discovered  their  silent  listener,  who  at 
once  came  forward,  smiling  and  apologizing  for  this  in 
trusion.  "  I  did  knock,"  said  he,  "  but  the  master  of  the 


366  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

house  was  holding  forth  so  vigorously  that  I  received 
no  welcome.  So  I  just  came  right  in." 

They  all  shook  hands,  pleasantly,  and  the  group-atmos 
phere  of  the  room  underwent  that  change  which  a  social 
atmosphere  always  undergoes,  as  one  or  more  new  per 
sons  enter  it.  Still,  in  this  case,  the  change  was  not 
great,  because  the  four  were  good  friends,  and  much 
in  sympathy,  despite  the  apparent  differences  in  their 
habits  of  life. 

Mr.  Marshall  expressed  his  satisfaction  at  Lawrence's 
remark,  and  then  his  face  became  quite  serious,  as  he 
said  :  "  I  had  a  definite  errand,  in  coming  here  to-day,  at 
this  hour.  A  sad  errand  it  is,  too."  And  he  looked 
from  one  to  the  other.  "  It  is  about  our  strange  old 
friend,  Uncle  Ben  Birch." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Freeman,  impulsively.  "  Is 
he  — "  And  she  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

Mr.  Marshall  nodded  his  head  slowly,  sadly.  "  He  is 
—  dead.  I  have  just  come  from  his  — '  home,'  I  suppose 
we  must  call  it.  I  went  there,  this  morning,  to  see  him, 
on  a  matter  of  business.  He  had  looked  to  rne,  as 
you  know,  for  various  things  of  late.  I  found  the  door 
of  the  old  loft  partly  open,  and  I  went  in.  And  there 
was  poor  old  Uncle  Ben,  half  reclining  on  the  rough 
bench  that  was  his  table,  his  head  on  his  arm,  and  — 
quite  gone,  the  body  cold.  He  must  have  died  yester 
day." 

A  gloom  fell  upon  all,  as  the  kind-hearted  mill-owner 
delivered  his  sad  message. 

"  How  we  shall  miss  him  !  "  sighed  Lawrence.  "  He 
really  filled  an  important  place,  in  our  chapel  life ;  and 
all  the  people  had  come  to  understand  and  love  him.  I 
never  knew  such  single-mindedness  as  his.  Simple, 
gentle,  and  sincere,  in  a  marvellous  degree,  he  seemed 
incapable  of  varying  from  the  exact  truth.  I  have 


"THOU   ART  THE   MAN"  367 

sometimes  thought,  with  shame,  that  the  amusement 
he  sometimes  afforded  us,  by  his  literal  understanding 
and  expressions  of  feelings,  was  the  measure  of  our  own 
mendacity,  conventional  or  personal." 

The  conversation  was  carried  on,  in  a  sombre  key,  for 
some  time.  The  news  of  Uncle  Ben's  death  threw  a 
cloud  over  all  their  hearts.  Presently,  Mr.  Marshall, 
who  seemed  to  have  something  of  importance  on  his 
mind,  turned  toward  Lawrence,  and  spoke  in  a  very  delib 
erate  and  even  formal  tone  of  voice :  "  Mr.  Freeman, 
do  you  realize  how  much  this  death  of  Benjamin  Symmes 
Birch  means  to  you  ?  " 

Lawrence  was  surprised  at  the  interrogation,  and  said 
so  at  once.  Whereupon  Mr.  Marshall  continued,  in  the 
same  serious  way  :  "  My  friend,  I  believe  you.  But 
it  is  my  duty  to  remind  you  that  Benjamin  Symmes 
Birch  left  a  will." 

"  Yes  —  I  recollect  his  saying  something  about  that," 
responded  Lawrence,  in  a  hesitating  way.  "  I  think  I 
sent  him  to  you,  did  I  not  ? " 

"  You  did.  And  I  drew  up  a  will  for  him.  As  you 
know,  I  have  had  some  training  and  experience  in  such 
matters." 

Lawrence  was  about  to  say  something,  his  face  still 
wearing  an  expression  of  perplexity ;  but  the  mill-owner 
motioned  to  him  to  be  silent. 

"I  drew  up  the  old  man's  will,"  he  continued.  "It 
was  simple  enough.  In  it  he  left  everything  to  you. 
Very  well.  At  the  time  when  that  will  was  drawn  up, 
he  was  only  '  poor  old  Uncle  Ben,'  without  ten  dollars' 
worth  of  property  in  the  world.  But  —  when  he  died, 
he  was  the  surviving  husband  of  Mrs.  Elvira  Snow, 
widow,  a  woman  of  large  property ;  when  she  died,  sev 
eral  weeks  ago,  Uncle  Ben  became  her  heir  and  the 
possessor  of  considerable  wealth." 


368  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

The  faces  of  the  three  listeners  were  indicative  of  the 
astonishment  which  filled  their  breasts.  Mrs.  Guthrie 
was  leaning  forward  in  her  chair,  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  mill-owner,  her  whole  attitude  showing  an  eager, 
joyous  excitement.  Mrs.  Freeman,  with  face  pale, 
glided  softly  over  to  her  husband,  who  was  seated  near 
a  table,  and  put  her  arm  about  his  neck,  while  her  gaze 
still  remained  riveted  on  Mr.  Marshall's  lips.  As  for 
Lawrence,  as  the  flood  of  this  strange  and  joyous  intel 
ligence  swept  over  him,  his  lips  moved,  as  if  in  prayer, 
and  then  he  leaned  forward  on  the  table,  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

When  he  lifted  his  head,  in  a  few  moments,  he  arose ; 
saying,  in  a  low  and  earnest  voice  that  was  husky  with 
emotion  :  "  The  dear,  gentle,  generous  old  man  !  God 
give  him  rest  and  love,  in  the  home  of  many  mansions  !  " 

Even  the  sturdy  mill-owner  himself  was  much  moved 
by  the  scene,  and  his  strong,  earnest  face  (so  much  of  it 
as  could  be  seen  above  the  dense,  bushy,  black  beard) 
gave  evidence  of  profound  and  noble  satisfaction  in  the 
good  fortune  which  had  come  to  his  friend.  He  went 
on,  after  a  while,  to  explain  that  the  Snow  estate  had 
not  been  settled,  but  that  there  was  no  question  about 
the  direct  transferal  of  the  property.  And  then,  his 
voice  and  manner  changing  to  a  more  ordinary  matter- 
of-fact  tone,  he  said  presently,  "  I  think  you  were  saying 
when  I  came  in,  Mr.  Freeman,  that  if  you  had  a  large 
amount  of  money  —  if  you  had  it,  you  would  like  to  put 
some  of  it  into  your  ideal  church." 

"  I  said  so,  just  that,"  replied  Lawrence,  firmly  but 
inquiringly,  and  wondering  what  was  coming  next. 

"  Very  well !    Then  what  say  you  to  making  of  our  new 
Emmanuel  Church  your  ideal  church,  putting  into  it  a  part 
of  your  new  wealth,  and  —  I  know  what  I  am  saying  — 
exercising  with  me  and  one  other  man,  —  each  giving  a 


"THOU   ART  THE   MAN"  369 

sum  equal  to  your  own,  —  exercising  complete  control 
of  the  entire  property,  and  directing  all  its  services  of 
worship  and  its  philanthropic  and  reformatory  work  ? " 

The  two  men  looked  straight  at  each  other.  Law 
rence  began,  "  But  there  is  —  " 

"Dr.  Carnaquay  ?  "  broke  in  the  mill-owner.  And 
Lawrence  nodded. 

"  Dr.  Carnaquay  will  be  only  too  glad  to  be  relieved 
of  his  charge,  in  order  to  become  my  agent,"  said  Mr. 
Marshall,  promptly,  like  one  who  had  carefully  thought 
out  a  problem,  and  had  his  answers,  adequate  and  con 
vincing.  I  have  long  wished  I  could  secure  such  char 
acter  and  capacity  as  he  possesses.  With  an  agent  like 
him,  in  the  South  and  the  West,  I  can  double  my  busi 
ness.  Dr.  Carnaquay  has  consented  to  remain  the  pas 
tor  of  Emmanuel  Church,  only  from  a  sense  of  duty, 
in  this  crisis  which  has  come." 

At  this  prospect  of  a  prolonged  discussion  of  Em 
manuel  Church  and  its  pastor,  the  young  widow's 
cheeks  were  observed,  by  watchful  Mrs.  Freeman,  to  be 
growing  deeper  and  deeper  in  rosy  coloring,  and  in  a 
moment  more  Mrs.  Guthrie  sprang  hastily  up,  went 
over  and  kissed  Mrs.  Freeman  in  a  fervid  manner,  then 
passed  to  Lawrence  and  took  his  hand.  She  seemed  on 
the  point  of  saying  something,  but,  instead,  gave  his  hand 
a  warm,  lingering,  almost  entreating  pressure,  and  went 
out,  saying  good-by,  quietly,  to  each,  as  she  opened  the 
door. 

"  I  have  presented  this  matter  to  you,"  began  Mr. 
Marshall  at  once,  in  the  same  determined  and  business 
like  tone,  "  only  after  full  deliberation  and  consultation. 
With  Dr.  Carnaquay  as  our  minister,  Emmanuel  Church 
can  undoubtedly  rebuild  and  again  prosper.  But  what 
sort  of  prosperity  will  it  be  ?  You  know  as  well  as  I  do. 
And  there  are  scores  of  sensible,  devout  people  in  our 

2B 


370  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

society,  who  have  tired  of  that  commercial  kind  of  suc 
cess.  We  want  our  church  to  be  a  religious  organiza 
tion,  not  a  bureau  of  entertainments.  You  have  ideas 
of  worship,  and  of  philanthropic,  reformatory  methods 
which  I  like.  And  now  is  the  opportunity  of  your  life 
to  put  them  into  practice.  What  say  you,  Mr.  Free 
man,  what  say  you  ?  " 

Lawrence  had  been  pacing  the  narrow  diameter  of 
the  room,  restlessly,  while  the  mill-owner  was  delivering 
this  long  speech.  When  Mr.  Marshall  ceased  speaking, 
and  stood  erect,  looking  toward  him,  awaiting  his 
answer,  Lawrence  stopped  short  in  his  restless  walking, 
gazed  directly  at  the  mill-owner,  and  the  two  pairs  of 
eyes,  honest,  earnest  eyes,  exchanged  that  look  with 
which  brave,  self-reliant  men  give  their  hearts  into  each 
other's  keeping.  Then  the  minister  strode  across  the 
intervening  space,  put  out  his  hand,  and  said,  quietly, 
resolutely  :  "  I  will  back  my  word  with  my  act.  If  all 
details  can  be  arranged,  for  both  church  and  chapel,  as 
you  affirm,  I  will  give  of  my  wealth  and  of  myself,  to 
build  and  develop  a  true  Christian  church,  which  — 
God  helping  us  —  shall  do  more  than  exist  in  lukewarm 
sinlessness,  but  shall  lay  hold  of  neglected,  down-trodden 
human  life,  and  lift  it,  and  teach  it,  and  save  it  from 
its  own  lower  self." 


CHAPTER   XXV 

GATHERED    FRAGMENTS 

"  Earth  owns,  at  last,  untrod 
By  sect,  or  caste,  or  clan, 
The  fatherhood  of  God, 
The  brotherhood  of  man. 

"  Fraud  fail,  craft  perish,  forth 
The  money-changers  driven, 
And  Godns  will  done  on  earth, 
As  now  in  heaven." 

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 

THERE  now  remains  but  little  to  say,  regarding  the 
new  life  upon  which  Emmanuel  Church  soon  entered. 
Since  there  was  little  or  no  insurance  money,  the  church, 
as  an  organization,  was  practically  bankrupt.  And  its 
future  lay  in  the  hands  of  whoever  could  furnish  the 
money  for  rebuilding.  Mr.  Marshall  had  not  spoken 
without  warrant,  and  knew  where  at  least  two-thirds  of 
the  necessary  sum  was  coming  from,  under  the  condi 
tions  named  by  him  to  Lawrence  Freeman. 

Accordingly  the  work  went  forward.  Lawrence  made 
his  assignment  of  property,  as  he  had  agreed ;  and  he, 
together  with  Thomas  Marshall  and  Mr.  Marshall's 
friend,  who  had  so  liberally  contributed  to  maintain  the 
chapel — these  three  as  trustees,  owned  the  entire  church 
property.  Mr.  Pidge  was  made  clerk  and  treasurer ; 
whereat  his  depression  of  spirits,  which  had  been  sad 
to  behold,  was  straightway  removed.  "  Doctor  "  Mixer 
was  "excused  "  from  his  duties  as  chairman  of  the  trus- 


372  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

tees,  and  was  not  likely  to  attain  any  official  position 
whatever,  in  the  new  organization.  Dr.  Carnaquay 
(now  become  Mr.  Ronald  Carnaquay)  "  pushed "  the 
Marshall  mills,  all  through  the  West,  with  remarkable 
success,  and  seems  likely  to  become  soon  a  member  of 
the  firm.  He  also  contributed  five  thousand  dollars, 
instead  of  two  thousand  dollars,  to  the  building  of  the 
new  edifice.  (He  calls  it  "a  quit-claim  payment")  And 
whenever  he  is  at  home  from  his  business  trips,  he 
attends  divine  service  in  the  hall  which  the  church 
temporarily  has  rented,  and  sometimes  he  gives  "talks," 
over  at  the  chapel  on  the  North  Side,  and  fairly  electri 
fies  those  plain  people  by  his  "  wonderful  command  of 
language." 

As  to  Carnaquay's  relations  with  Adeline  Guthrie, 
people  are  not  "  quite  sure "  (even  after  giving  the 
matter  that  careful,  conscientious  attention  which  people 
so  kindly  give,  under  such  circumstances).  It  is  noted 
that  she  is  gradually  leaving  off  the  sombre  hues,  in 
which  she  was  accustomed  to  dress,  and  that  she 
has  recently  appeared,  in  a  very  becoming  hat  with  a 
large  white  ostrich  feather.  Also,  she  receives  letters 
regularly,  when  Ronald  Carnaquay  is  "travelling"; 
also  it  is  known  that  he  carries  a  photograph  (a  female 
face  it  is)  fastened  upon  the  inside  of  his  watch-case  ; 
but  nobody  has  obtained  a  sufficiently  clear  look  at  it 
to  be  able  to  identify  it,  although  Sister  Train  and  Sister 
Moulton  and  Sister  Jennings  all  three  asked  him,  one 
Sunday  after  service,  what  time  it  was  —  and  the  big 
clock  in  the  hall  facing  them,  admonishing  them  all  the 
time. 

One  word,  in  passing,  about  Olive  Marshall.  She 
does  not  peruse  such  dark  and  dreary  volumes  as  she 
did,  and  she  read  aloud  to  her  brother  Ned,  one  evening, 
not  long  ago,  a  poem  in  masculine-looking  manuscript, 


GATHERED    FRAGMENTS  373 

which  she  thought  very  "lovely,"  but  she  would  not 
give  the  author's  name.  Moreover,  she  has  been  seen, 
of  late,  to  have,  each  Sunday,  a  fresh  bunch  of  violets, 
fastened  at  her  belt.  In  short,  she  seems  quite  restored 
in  spirits,  and  takes  a  very  optimistic  view  of  the 
universe. 

As  for  Miss  Metcalf  —  she  comes  to  church  irreg 
ularly,  but  she  avoids  Mrs.  Guthrie,  and  merely  bows 
to  Ronald  Carnaquay  in  passing.  Her  reign  in  the 
sewing-circle  is  over.  That  was  one  of  the  stipula 
tions  which  Lawrence  made.  Mrs.  Bellaire  is  now 
president,  and  manages  the  affairs  of  the  society  with 
good  judgment.  Athough  there  is  very  little  need  of 
their  frantic  assistance,  a  group  of  loyal  old  ladies  meet, 
twice  a  week,  and  sew  and  sew  and  —  talk.  But  they 
do  not  discuss  the  minister,  because  he  is  quite  indepen 
dent  of  their  comments  and  their  votes.  Poor  confused 
Matilda  Fifield  has  never  fully  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  the  church  conflagration.  People  are  patient  and 
considerate  with  her,  and  never  even  faintly  suggest 
that  she  was  in  any  way  responsible  for  the  —  not 
calamity,  but  "  blessing  in  disguise." 

Yes,  "blessing  in  disguise."  For  the  fire  burned  up 
many  things  beside  wood  and  paint,  pews  and  carpets. 
It  burned  up  many  Pharisaic  ideas  and  commercial 
standards,  and  impeding  habits  and  customs.  The  con 
gregation  is  only  about  two-thirds  as  large  as  when 
Ronald  Carnaquay  strode  up  and  down  the  platform, 
but  it  is  a  living  forceful  organism  now,  and  not  an 
assemblage  of  idle,  curious  spectators. 

Several  persons,  of  real  intelligence  and  power  and 
refinement,  who  were  kept  in  the  background,  during  the 
Carnaquay  supremacy,  have  now  came  to  the  front,  and 
take  a  more  active  part  in  affairs.  Also  there  are  many 
individuals,  men  and  women  of  diverse  and  various 


374  RONALD   CARNAQUAY 

callings,  who  have  gradually  found  their  way  to  the  hall, 
from  all  parts  of  the  city,  drawn  there  because  the  simple 
earnestness  of  the  place  appeals  strongly  to  them.  And, 
in  the  affairs  of  the  city,  Emmanuel  Church  is  already 
making  its  power  felt :  it  opposes  frauds  in  the  munici 
pal  government,  pushes  for  reforms  in  existing  laws, 
fights  the  cause  of  any  who  are  unjustly  attacked,  and 
has  become  a  veritable  "church  militant,"  hated  by 
some,  respected  by  most,  recognized  as  a  power  by  all. 
It  has  opened  a  coffee-house ;  and  it  offers  rooms  for 
labor-union  meetings,  where  the  odor  of  whiskey  does 
not  tempt  the  nostrils  of  honest  men. 

In  short,  Emmanuel  Church  is  a  live  organization, 
whose  ideal  is  not  ease,  but  action  ;  and  when  it  enters 
its  new  edifice,  its  work  will  become  still  more  efficient, 
and  it  will  be  more  hated,  and  more  loved,  than  even  it 
is  now ;  and  thus  it  will  find  itself  more  perfectly  in  the 
line  of  organic  and  apostolic  descent  from  him,  our 
Blessed  Lord,  who  was  so  hated,  that  men  shed  his 
innocent  blood ;  yet  was  so  loved,  that  millions  of  human 
beings  have  welcomed  death,  with  his  dear  name  on  their 
dying  lips. 


THE  VIRGINIAN 

A  HORSEMAN  OF  THE  PLAINS 
By  OWEN  WISTER 

Author    of    "Lin    McLean,"    "  U.   S.    Grant:    a    Biography,"  etc. 

With  eight  full-page  illustrations  by  ARTHUR  I.  KELLER 

Cloth  J2mo  $1.50 


"  There  is  not  a  page  in  Mr.  Wister's  new  book  which  is  not  interesting. 
This  is  its  first  great  merit,  that  it  arouses  the  sympathy  of  the  reader  and 
holds  him  absorbed  and  amused  to  the  end.  It  does  a  great  deal  more  for 
him.  .  .  .  Whoever  reads  the  first  page  will  find  it  next  to  impossible  to  put 
the  book  down  until  he  has  read  every  one  of  the  five  hundred  and  four  in 
the  book,  and  then  he  will  wish  there  were  more  of  them." 

—  The  New  York  Tribune. 

"  Mr.  Wister  has  drawn  real  men  and  real  women,  and  a  day  that 
America  has  centuries  of  reason  for  pride  in,  now  passing  away  forever.  .  .  . 
No  one  writes  of  the  frontier  with  more  interest  than  this  young  Philadelphia 
author,  and  no  one  writes  literature  more  essentially  American.  In  The  Vir 
ginian  he  has  put  forth  a  book  that  will  be  remembered  and  read  with  inter 
est  for  many  years  hence.  May  he  soon  write  another  as  good !  " 

—  The  Chicago  American. 

"  Mr.  Wister  is  an  engaging  story  teller.  His  descriptions  are  always 
graphic,  and  he  increases  his  reputation  for  narrative  bristling  with  American 
ism  in  this  volume.  He  knows  the  West  by  long  and  intimate  personal  con 
tact,  and  he  brings  to  his  subject  a  depth  of  appreciation  and  understanding 
unsurpassed  by  any  other  writer  who  has  chosen  the  Far  West  as  a  theme  in 
fiction.  .  .  .  The  story  is  human  and  alive.  It  has  the  '  touch  and  go '  of 
the  vibrating  life  of  the  expansive  American  West  and  puts  the  country  and 
the  people  vividly  before  the  reader." 

—  Philadelphia  Times1  Saturday  Review. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


THE  FOUR  FEATHERS 

By  A.  E.  W.  MASON 
Author  of  "  The  Courtship  of  Morrice  Buckler" 

Cloth     i2mo     $1.50 


" '  The  Four  Feathers '  is  a  novel  of  no  ordinary  type ;  it  stands 
out  clearly  from  amongst  the  hosts  that  overwhelm  us  yearly  at  this 
season.  It  is  an  ordinary  formula  of  praise  to  say  that  the  author 
has  a  grip  of  his  subject ;  it  is  seldom  that,  as  in  this  case,  the  author 
has  allowed  his  subject  to  grip  him,  and  that  without  losing  his  bal 
ance.  .  .  .  For  a  book  such  as  this  the  reader  can  only  be  truly 
thankful,  hoping  that  the  author  may  long  continue  thus  to  give  us 
of  his  best."  —  The  London  Guardian. 

"  Mr.  Mason  is  too  good  a  writer  to  be  thoroughly  appreciated  by 
the  rank  and  file  of  novel  readers.  But  there  was,  in  the  book 
quoted,  that  eerie  quality  which  was  the  distinguishing  trait  of 
Stevenson's  books,  and  there  was  in  addition  to  this  a  compelling 
directness  of  movement  which  not  even  Stevenson  ever  attained." 

—  St.  Louis  Globe  Democrat. 

"The  book  is  out  of  the  common  run  of  present-day  fiction, 
welcome,  above  all,  for  a  refreshing  note  of  sterling  manliness,  of  the 
loyalty  of  men  of  honor  toward  each  other,  for  its  interpretation  of 
the  fine  meaning  of  the  old  English  expression,  '  a  soldier  and  a 
gentleman.'"  —  N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

"  To  those  to  whom  The  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta  suggests  the 
quintessence  of  cruel  imprisonment,  the  description  of  The  House 
of  Stone  at  Omdurman  in  A.  E.  W.  Mason's  'The  Four  Feathers' 
cannot  fail  to  appeal  as  a  far  more  terrible  place  of  incarceration. 
.  .  .  From  beginning  to  end  the  books  holds  one's  keenest  interest. 
It  is  carefully,  even  daintily  written  in  parts,  and  woven  with  it  is  a 
thread  of  touching  romance."  —  N.  Y.  Evening  Post. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66   FIFTH   AVENUE,   NEW   YORK 


-      -GT- 


A     000138718     2 


